


Eye of Apris

by Mishaela



Category: Star Ocean: Till the End of Time
Genre: Alcohol, Chases, Consensual Sex, Dragons, Escapes, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kissing, M/M, Oral Sex, Rescues, Revenge, Slash, True Love, Violence, Yaoi, m/m - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-10-20 02:00:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 28,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20667449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mishaela/pseuds/Mishaela
Summary: Almost a year after the fight against Luther, Albel finds himself lost during proceedings of peace between Airyglyph and Aquios. Fayt returns during the Mid-Winter holiday, but what is he running from? Does Albel even want to know?(This is an older fic series I posted years ago.  I'm posting it here for your pleasure and archiving.)





	1. Chapter One

Eye of Apris  
by Mishaela  
  
Disclaimer: Most of the characters represented here are property of SquareEnix. I'm just borrowing them for a little while to appease the muses who have taken me hostage. This story is homo-erotic in nature: if you're not a fan of yaoi/slash or you're too young to read this, turn back before it's too late.  
  
* * *  
It wasn't easy to drown out the assorted sounds coming from the streets of Kirlsa, but Albel Nox did his best. Today marked the first day of the Mid-Winter Festival, a time of sentiment and generosity. He stood at the window of his own estate, one that he'd spent very little time at since the death of his father. The cold season had come on strong this year, practically brutal, with harsh winds and an early snowstorm. However, the people of the once-thriving mining town were not to be so easily kept from their love of celebration and hope.  
  
Albel had poised himself close to the glass, so much so that the severe chill seeped through to his face and chest. He never really liked this time of year. His artificial arm was highly susceptible to abrupt changes in weather, cold being the absolute worst for him. It brought on an ache that he felt all the way up to his shoulder and, as a result, made him very irritable so long as it lasted.  
  
That was not the only reason he hated the season. It brought on his own sentimentality, made him weak, as past memories gripped him more strongly than his left hand could. His warm fingers reached up, the callused pads making contact with the glass, creating misty outlines because of the cold. Despite everything, this was his favorite spot in the whole house.  
  
The reason had nothing to do with comfort, except perhaps the kind he'd felt as a child. His father, Glou Nox, would stand in the same place, watching young Albel often while he played or trained. The head of the Dragon Brigade took pride in his son, had loved him more than his own life.  
  
"Father… I'm sorry."  
  
Peeling his fingers from the glass, Albel used them to wipe away the twin trails of damp that had, miraculously, formed under each eye. Silently, he chastised himself for such a display of weakness. He felt useless. The King of Airyglyph and the Queen of Aquios had started even more intense talks of peace. There would be no more war.  
  
Albel Nox was a warrior. Without conflict, he had no existence.  
  
A knock at the door of the private study briefly startled him and his head whipped around to level a glare at it. "What is it," he snarled out, his voice harsher than usual.  
  
The single servant he allowed to stay at the Nox Estate spoke softly through the door. "A messenger from Airyglyph arrived moments ago, milord. His Majesty has summoned you for the royal Mid-Winter Celebration."  
  
While he wasn't surprised at the words, they did little to soothe his emotional state. A request to appear could be refused without incident. This was not a request. He had no choice; he had to attend. Unfortunately, with how things had been to now, it also required the leader of the Black Brigade to dress to suit. Albel looked down at the clawed gauntlet and frowned. Over time, he'd collected, or created, a variety of artificial limbs. There was one in his collection that he never used. It had no benefit to him at all except, perhaps, for the complete and utter lack of decoration.  
  
It had been fashioned to look like a normal limb. The craftsmanship had been exquisite, of course, since it had been a gift from the King himself. Now, it seemed, that pushy bastard was going to force the swordsman into using it just this once.  
  
"Damn him… He knows I don't care for his court and the maggots that writhe within it."  
  
Growling in his throat, Albel turned away from the window and exited the room. The idea of prettying himself up for the court made his stomach clench, but there was no way he could get out of it. Being famous, or infamous, had its own disadvantages.  
  
* * *  
The celebration was in full swing by the time Albel arrived at the castle. Resigned to his fate, the swordsman straightened his spine and started brusquely walking towards the wide open doors. It was as he expected inside: revelers dressed in gaudy costumes, enough food and drink to feed them all ten times over, and his Majesty off to the side talking to someone with azure hair.  
  
It was the hair and its color that had drawn his gaze. There were only two people he knew of with hair like that and the person beneath it was too tall to be the woman. That left only one person: Fayt. It had been nearly a year since he'd seen the youth last, since all that nasty business with the Vendeeni, 4D beings, and Luther.  
  
Why was Fayt here? The young man was, at best, a trouble-magnet. Albel started moving between partiers, his gait full of purpose. He would be the first to find out just what was going wrong this time. Halfway there, the swordsman and leader of the Black Brigade stopped so he could cast his crimson gaze around the room. Something else had occurred to him. Where was the blond giant, Cliff? Had he given up his role as the youth's protector? Had Fayt come alone?  
  
With a single shake of his head, Albel resumed his determined stride across the room. Briefly, he wondered if he should offer the younger man a life-threatening greeting, as he'd done in the past. However, one look at the King of Airyglyph's face shattered that fleeting notion. Whatever he and Fayt were discussing seemed to be pleasing him.  
  
If the king remained in a good mood, Albel might be able to slip away from the party early.  
  
"Ah, Albel," Arzei, the King, said as the swordsman approached the pair. He gestured towards Fayt, a pleased smile on his face while he spoke to his subordinate. "We were just talking about you."  
  
Albel frowned at that, his crimson gaze shifting to the youth before returning to his liege. "Oh?" He disliked pleasantries and small talk, however, it seemed he was going to have to endure for the time being.  
  
"Our young hero is going to be staying for a while. I offered him room here at the castle, but he seems reluctant to impose." Arzei gave Albel a smile that, to the swordsman, foretold some sort of doom.  
  
The next words from the king made him realize that Albel should have kept his distance.  
  
"Since you're at the new training facility so much, would it be presumptuous of me to suggest he stay at your estate?"  
  
Schooling his reaction carefully, Albel let his gaze again drift towards the youth in question. At least the boy had the decency to be ashamed at the suggestion. While the leader of the Black Brigade didn't hate the young man, he wasn't exactly ready to just let the teenager make a home for himself in his late father's residence. Unfortunately for Albel, the king was all about politics, subterfuge, and sometimes even downright dirty, under-handed tactics.  
  
This was another example of the latter of the three.  
  
Albel knew that the king expected him to explode over the idea, and part of him did. However, he wasn't feeling up to being predictable or obliging. The king was putting him on the spot, of course, but Albel knew how to turn such a thing to his advantage. Disliking royal politics and not knowing a way around them were two different kinds of lum entirely.  
  
"Staying in a royal suite would make him soft." Albel turned his gaze towards Fayt again, the look in the scarlet eyes unreadable. "I'd hate for that to happen. I still have yet to defeat you in battle. Your Majesty would coddle and pamper him… I would do no such thing."  
  
"It's okay, Albel," Fayt said, finally, in his own defense. "Yeah, I'm sticking around, but I didn't come here trying to beg for a bed or anything. I wanted to come to Elicoor so I could deliver some Christmas presents."  
  
"Oh, yes," the king said, pouncing on the last part of Fayt's sentence. "I still find it strange how your Christmas sounds so much like our Mid-Winter Festival."  
  
It wasn't long before Albel became disinterested in the change of conversation and he drifted away from both King and Fayt. Likely, he wouldn't be able to vanish too early and he placed the sole blame for that on the otherworldly visitor. Because Fayt was there and the two of them had a sort of history, the king would fully expect Albel to remain for the entire party.  
  
Sometime later, he found himself leaned against one of the supports, close to the roaring fireplace, trying to get some heat back into his artificial arm and the flesh attached to it. Unconsciously, Albel rubbed slightly at the exposed flesh, close to where both were joined. A voice at his shoulder caused him to whirl around in irritated surprise.  
  
"The cold getting to you?" Said voice belonged to Fayt and his eyes regarded Albel in concern.  
  
"It's nothing," the swordsman snapped, hoping to cover his reaction to the startlement by driving the youth away.  
  
Ignoring the tone, the blue-haired teenager smiled and held up something small. It appeared to be some kind of enclosed pouch, but the exterior was transparent and it was filled with some viscous liquid. "Here. It generates about eight hours' worth of heat." Fayt moved to Albel's left flank, plucking up the sleeve that covered his upper arm, and tucked the small pouch in place before letting the fabric go.  
  
"I'm surprised you came back," Albel said calmly, though stiffly, his voice lacking the usual malice and scorn. He averted his line of sight to the fireplace and resettled his back against the stone behind him.  
  
Fayt offered a smile in response. "I'm not the kind of person to make friends and then just leave them behind, Albel."  
  
"Idiot, who said we were friends?"  
  
"The king seems to be under that impression." Fayt let his gaze follow the taller man's. "I'll be heading to Aquios in a couple of days. I wanna see how Nel's doing. I might even stop by Surferio for a few hours… though, that'll be if I can come up with a good excuse to make an escape later."  
  
"I've no interest in those maggots."  
  
"No, I didn't figure you did." Fayt actually sounded somewhat disappointed in Albel's words. "I, uh… I have a gift for you."  
  
At that, Albel's head snapped around so he could stare at the boy so quickly, one of the vertebrae in his neck audibly popped. There was no way to hide the complete look of shock and surprise on the man's face. He even pulled his back away from the stone pillar. "What kind of gift?"  
  
Fayt chuckled at both the look he was getting and the question asked. "Only one way to find out. But," the youth looked around, taking in all the revelers. "I don't think you're very comfortable in here. I'd rather give it to you somewhere else."  
  
"You're right," Albel admitted lowly. "I don't like being here around all these squirming worms."  
  
"Fine, then. Let's skip out. If you need an excuse, we can just tell the king that I got tired."  
  
"That would imply I'm letting you stay at my home," Albel pointed out.  
  
Fayt's response started with a chuckle. "What the king doesn't know won't hurt him or us."  
  
The swordsman smirked at that. "For once, you've said something I can whole-heartedly agree with."

* * *

Continued in Part II


	2. Chapter 2

"In here," Albel said, his head turned to the side slightly so his voice carried over his shoulder to the youth behind him as he opened the door leading into the Nox Estate. Fortunately, before the servant had left for the night, he'd banked the fire to ensure it would still be burning strongly when the swordsman returned home.   
  
Fayt looked around as he stepped inside, pulling his coat even tighter around his shoulders. "Wow… this place is huge."   
  
Albel snorted and strode across the main room to the fireplace, shedding his heavy robe to toss it over a chair. "What? You thought I lived in a hovel? Hardly."   
  
"No… I guess I just wasn't expecting this," the teenager said softly, following in the other man's steps to get closer to the source of warmth in the room.   
  
"This estate has been in the Nox family for generations," Albel informed his not-so-welcome guest before sitting on the floor in front of the fire. He pried the small warming pack from the joint of the artificial arm and held it out to Fayt.   
  
His hand was pushed back towards him, the object still in his grasp. "Keep it for now. It's still good for a few more hours and you need it more than I do."   
  
"What is it with you and that damn generosity of yours," Albel asked in irritation.   
  
Fayt sighed and looked down at the swordsman before putting a box on the floor next to his feet. "You just don't get it, do you?"   
  
"That you're a sentimental idiot? I understood that very early on, fool."   
  
Settling down next to Albel, the teen opened his coat, but didn't pull his arms out of it. "Sentiments aren't weakness, Albel. Neither is caring for someone, or being worried about them. To you, friends are either a crutch or a weapon to use against the enemy. To me, friends are precious… a treasure to protect and cherish."   
  
"Such stupid thinking will lead to your destruction."   
  
"Maybe," Fayt said thoughtfully. "But, isn't it better to die from a cause of your choosing than to die for no reason at all?" He shook his head silently after that and pushed the box towards Albel. "That's your present."   
  
Albel gave the wrapped package a suspicious look, hesitant to touch it let alone open it. He knew Fayt, knew what the boy was and wasn't capable of. He knew that, in all likelihood, the box and its contents were non-threatening. The problem wasn't what was inside; the problem was that opening it, even just out of curiosity, would lend credence to the notion that the two of them were friends.   
  
The younger man's green eyes were expectant, silently urging. Albel felt the weight of that gaze while his own remained fixed on the brightly wrapped gift box and the ornate ruby red silk bow that wound around it. He didn't reach for it. "Why?"   
  
Fayt picked up the meaning of the single word and answered with a soft voice. "Because, Albel, regardless of what happens in the future, I do care about you. Even if it's just temporary, what matters is now. I wanted to give you something before any of that could change."   
  
"How is it… that you're the only person who believes in me?" The question was out before the swordsman could censor it and he gave himself a mental kick at the slip.   
  
"The reason for that is the fact I don't really give a damn what other people say about you," Fayt answered in a solemn voice. "People called you 'wicked' but, regardless of your reputation, you didn't go out of your way to slaughter innocents. No matter how you rationalized it, you have a sense of honor that few people I know could maintain. You're no more wicked than the universe around us."   
  
Albel said nothing for long minutes after that heartfelt response. Just what could he say? The boy was right. "It seems you know me too well," he whispered, his voice as serious as the silence that previously reigned between them.   
  
"I paid attention," Fayt responded jovially. "Friends do that, you know."   
  
"No, I don't. I've never had any… friends." Tentatively, Albel's right hand reached out, his long fingers curling around one edge of the gift to draw it close. He almost felt as if he were moving in a daze. A part of his mind screamed at him, commanded and then begged him to stop. Once his fingers moved to the package, however, Albel couldn't stop as he slowly worked on opening it. The wrapping fell away, revealing a featureless box underneath.   
  
All the while, he felt Fayt's eyes on him. The anticipation and anxiety radiated out from the younger man in waves. Was it _really_ so important to the boy that Albel accept a gift from him? How could something so minuscule mean so much?   
  
He hesitated before working on the box itself. Up until now, the only gift he'd ever gotten since the death of his father had been from the king. How strange that he should even be wearing that gift while opening this one. Albel's hands finally worked at the box, prying it open, revealing the ornate single-edged blade inside.   
  
The workmanship of the weapon was obvious: it was a flawless masterpiece of skill and talent. Albel lifted it from its confinement, his eyes intent on his examination. Those scarlet orbs traveled the entire length of the blade, looking for any imperfections. The roaming gaze halted at the maker's mark close to the tang of the blade.   
  
He knew that mark quite well. It was Fayt's mark. This… foolish, stupid boy had crafted the weapon himself. To make it worse, he'd traveled across the void of space to bring it to Albel.   
  
In a single, fluid motion, Albel lifted the accompanying scabbard and sheathed the blade. "It's magnificent," he said without looking at the younger man.   
  
"Merry Christmas, Albel."   
  
The swordsman snorted and flicked his gaze towards Fayt. "I don't believe in stupid sentiments such as Mid-Winter Festivals or… some odd holiday from a world I've never even seen."   
  
Fayt offered back a relieved smile and gave Albel's shoulder a slight shove. "Sheesh. Just say 'thank you' and stop being a jerk."   
  
Instead of either one, Albel rose to his feet, the weapon carried in his artificial hand. "Wait here," he said as the only explanation of his action before walking up the stairs to the master bedroom. The new sword was settled reverently on the dressing table so he could rummage through one of the drawers. It took longer than he expected to find something suitable before he left again to rejoin the teenager.   
  
When he reached the doorway of the main room, he paused to look at Fayt's back. His keen sense of observation kicked in then. There was something wrong. It wasn't physical, but likely mental. The way Fayt's shoulders sagged just slightly, as though they bore a heavier weight than usual. It made Albel doubt the youth's reason for being on Elicoor.   
  
"Hey, fool. Think fast!" He tossed the item in his hand at the back of the blue head. For some reason, it pleased Albel when the youth actually managed to catch the object before it did harm. "I heard somewhere that it was bad luck to receive a blade as a gift without giving something back in return," he said in excuse for this odd behavior.   
  
He watched as Fayt turned the cuff bracelet over in his hand. The etchings were precise, if seemingly random. The swordsman had paid well for the trinket, and then never bothered wearing it. Hell, it had been so long, Albel couldn't even remember where he'd bought it.   
  
The green gaze turned up, the surprise clear in their depths as they regarded the swordsman. "Thank you."   
  
"It's late," Albel said, his gaze moving to the windowpane and the snow that was falling heavily outside. "Get up and follow me." The teenager was led to the bedroom closest to Albel's on the second floor. The chamber itself hadn't seen use in quite some time since the commander had never entertained guests before. Though it had remained empty for so long, there wasn't a single speck of dust anywhere.   
  
"You can use this room," Albel said, again not looking at the young man beside him. "It won't surprise me if my servant isn't able to get here in the morning. There is food, but we both know I can't cook worth a damn, so you'll have to fend for yourself."   
  
"That's fine," Fayt told him, likely still surprised at this gesture of welcome.   
  
* * *  
It was as the commander had thought the next morning; his servant was unable to get to the estate. Fortunately, Fayt was a reasonable cook so neither of them went hungry. While there wasn't really a lot to work with in the cupboards and pantry, there was enough.   
  
Albel frowned at the sheer depth of the snow that bordered around them, hemming them in. However, he made no moves to step outside and clear it away. The act was too much effort in his eyes and, he told himself, so long as it was there he had the perfect excuse to not be present for the rest of His Majesty's stupid celebration.   
  
His guest brought him a cup of hot tea, which Albel accepted silently. His flesh hand was thankful for the warmth and each sip spread more of the same through his chilled body. Idly, he wondered just how long he was going to have to endure Nature's form of house arrest.   
  
"It came down pretty solid last night, huh?"   
  
"We're still close to Airyglyph," Albel said, punctuating his words with another sip. "More often than not, we share their bad weather." His crimson gaze briefly moved to the youth next to him at the window before returning to the blanket of white outside. "I'll have to carve a path through to the gate later today so we can get extra supplies."   
  
Fayt nodded, looking over at the slim form standing beside him. "Yeah. More snow's going to come down tonight and tomorrow. Likely, it'll be this bad or worse all week."   
  
"Did your strange technology tell you that?" asked Albel, who turned to face the azure-haired teen.   
  
"Among other things." Fayt leaned against the wall close to the window, closing his eyes as he continued to sip his tea.   
  
The boy looked tired, weary, and again Albel wondered just why the young man had returned to Elicoor. "You didn't come here just for some stupid holiday," he said at last.   
  
Green eyes reopening, Fayt looked up at the other man and sighed. "Would you believe me if I said I've been bored?"   
  
Albel snorted, his eyes boring into the youth. "Not the whole truth, but not a whole lie, either." The intense stare lasted only seconds longer than the observation before the scarlet eyes went back to gazing out the window.   
  
"I… I just need some time to think, that's all," Fayt said softly, looking down into his cup.   
  
"It's not like I really give a damn, just so long as your being here isn't the beginning of another catastrophe." The swordsman looked at Fayt again, the frown he'd had before reasserting itself. "No one would think to look for you here, right? I'm not going to get bothered by that loathsome blond moron, am I?"   
  
Shaking his head, the teen lifted his gaze again. "No, I didn't tell Cliff where I was going. Besides, I think the last place he'd think to look for me would be here."   
  
"I don't know," Albel commented lowly, "you spent a lot of time on this world. It doesn't take an idiot to tell you've gotten comfortable here."   
  
"That's not what I meant," Fayt responded. "You don't exactly come across as a nurturing kind of person. He'd have no reason to think I'd be staying with you."   
  
"I don't coddle worthless maggots. Besides," Albel looked at the young man sternly, "if you get on my nerves too much, I'll just kill you and be done with it." He turned to take his empty cup back to the kitchen and get a refill of tea.   
  
Fayt nodded slightly. "Thanks, Albel."   
  
The tone, the words, the sincerity behind it… These things caused a faint twinge within the chest of the commander of the Black Brigade and he paused in mid-step to toss his scarlet gaze over his shoulder. "You wouldn't be the first person who ever required sanctuary, Fayt. I don't know if you can find it here, around me, but you're free to do as you please." He heard a sound of surprise and nodded.   
  
"Don't think you'll be staying here for free, though. I can tell by looking at you that you've started getting soft. I want you at your peak for our rematch."   
  
The youth smiled at him, his face relieved. "Understood."   
  
* * *  
Bright sunlight filtered through the grand window in Albel's bedchamber as he brushed out his loose hair. While he preferred it wrapped, there were times when the bindings would annoy him. Since he wasn't expecting to be finding battle any time soon, he didn't see the harm in leaving it down this morning.   
  
Albel had taken advantage of the chance to get a few extra hours sleep. In fact, he'd only woken when he did because of Fayt's pathetic attempt at trying to stealthily slip past his door and down the hall. He'd just belted his sarong in place when a peculiar noise brought his attention to the window. The young commander let his gaze drift around outside until they fixed on the teen aged man who was his guest.   
  
"That idiot," he hissed, his eyes widening slightly. Albel whirled around, snatching up his sword as he hastened his way from the chamber to the hall outside. Planting his hand, he threw his weight over the railing to the stairs, landing cat-like on the first floor, before resuming his fast stride.   
  
Seconds later, he burst through the door that led out behind the main household. His breath crystallized in the air and his boots crunched on the snow as he ran, moving almost desperately in the direction of where he'd seen Fayt from his vantage point above. "You fool!" His shouting voice carried across the grounds to the blue-haired youth. "Get away from it now!"   
  
Just then, the fledgling dragon that Fayt had been approaching lifted up on its hind legs, wings spreading out, a menacing growl issuing from its throat. The young man fell back and started scooting through the snow, but the dragonet was now advancing on him.   
  
"Aaaah…"   
  
Albel kept his momentum going, leaping over Fayt's head agilely, his artificial battle-arm coming up in a defensive position. There was an impact, his body halting abruptly, and then he heard the unmistakable crunch of teeth grinding down on metal. "Damn you," the swordsman swore, tugging at his arm so he could try and rip it free of the beast's maw.   
  
The young man's voice rose up behind him. "Albel!" He felt Fayt's fingers grip his shoulder and he shook them off violently.   
  
"Get out of here," he grunted out, trying to keep his footing as the fledgling began jerking his trapped arm from side-to-side. Something wrenched and he knew that it was the juncture point between his flesh and the artificial limb. Albel narrowed his gaze, withdrawing a little into himself, ignoring the strain against his shoulder as his other hand began to glow.   
  
Seconds later, the empowered palm came forward, right into the dragon's face. At that moment, a barrage of ice spikes shot forth, making the creature shriek in pain and let loose its grip. Dark ichor seeped from its wounds as it decided it wasn't nearly hungry enough to keep attacking the swordsman. The Ice Needle spell had succeeded in driving the dragon youngling away.   
  
When he was sure it was gone, Albel dropped to one knee, his hand reaching up to help support the strained shoulder. Sticky warmth oozed between his fingers to drip out onto the snow underneath. With a curse, Albel disconnected the ruined limb and threw it away from him.   
  
"You're bleeding!"   
  
Albel looked up into Fayt's worried face. "I don't need you to tell me that, fool." He was breathless, his heart pounding, the sound of blood rushing in his ears. The youth just looked down at him, a stunned expression on his face. With a surge of anger, Albel's foot swept out and smacked into the teen's ankles, dropping him to his backside in front of the swordsman.   
  
"What the hell were you thinking, you idiot?! Wild dragons, of any age, are not like puppies or kittens… they're not friendly or cute. They're hungry and dangerous. That whelp could have ripped you to ribbons and devoured you in mere minutes."   
  
Getting his feet under him, Albel stood over Fayt, his face contorted in fury. "If you want to die, I'll oblige you… but only after I get my rematch. Until then, I won't tolerate you doing stupid things like trying to get yourself killed."   
  
Fayt's head fell forward in shame under the intensity of Albel's anger and the trembling that overtook his body wasn't from the cold weather. "I-I'm sorry."   
  
"Don't be sorry," Albel said, his voice stern. "Get inside so you don't freeze to death."  
  
* * *  
It was several hours into evening, after a doctor had already been and gone, before Fayt finally ventured from the bedchamber he'd been given. Albel sat in the main room, close to the fire, reading a book on military tactics. He was fully aware of the youth standing in the doorway. The book went into his lap as the swordsman reached for a goblet of wine on the table nearby.   
  
"Just how long are you going to lurk over there?" he asked then sipped from the chalice before replacing it.   
  
The young man shuffled into the room, his shoulders slumped as if in defeat, and came to a stop next to Albel's overstuffed chair. "I'm sorry… about your arm…"   
  
"Hmph. Do I look upset about it?" Albel asked, turning his face up so his guest could see him clearly. "I've strained the joint before. It's healed already, I'm just supposed to let it get a day or so of rest." The swordsman watched Fayt chew his lower lip, worry at it, and by the look of things, it wasn't the first time since the incident that morning.   
  
"If you've got something else to say, out with it. I can't read your mind."   
  
"Thanks… for saving my life," came the hoarse whisper.   
  
Albel reached up with his right hand, catching hold of Fayt's shirt to jerk him down so they were face-to-face. The teen hit his knees with a yelp, the startled green eyes watching the young commander as he shifted closer. When he spoke, Albel's voice was low-pitched and almost… comforting.   
  
"I don't know what's happened since you were last here," he started, his eyes meeting and holding Fayt's. "But, you came here to escape whatever it is that's bothering you. I won't pretend to know what you're going through." Albel had a feeling he was going to regret his next words, but that was the part of him that was always a suspicious bastard. The young man needed some kind of comforting gesture, but there was only one he was capable of giving at the moment.   
  
"All I can do, as your… friend, is give you my protection until you work it out for yourself."   
  
Fayt's eyes widened slightly and a weak smile formed as the meaning behind the words sank in. He pressed his face against Albel's lean-muscled arm, relieved at what he'd just been told. "Albel… they want me to become a leader in the Federation…"   
  
"Better you than me," the swordsman said, looking down at the top of the teen's head. "If you're not sure, then tell them no. They can't force you into anything you don't want to do."   
  
"I just don't think I'm ready for something like that," came Fayt's muffled voice.   
  
Albel sighed and shook his head. "Little fool," he said gently, almost like an endearment. "It takes more courage to resist that kind of pressure than it does to give in." He shifted his arm, silently urging the youth to look up at his face. "If they come looking for you, I won't let them have you. If you become a government leader then I miss my chance to prove who's better with a sword. Therefore, protecting you just happens to be in my best interests."   
  
Taking up his chalice again, the commander drained the remainder of the wine inside. Before he could rise to refill it, the young man took the vessel from his hand. "I'll get for you," Fayt explained then moved to do just that.   
  
"Anticipating my needs," Albel mused, leaning his cheek against his fist as he gave a smirk, "you might make a good servant."   
  
There was a chuckle from the teen before he tossed out his retort. "You can draw your own bath, Lord Nox."   
  
"Why you little maggot… You're fired."   
  
Fayt glanced over his shoulder at the warrior, shifting the goblet of wine teasingly in his hand. "You want this or not?"   
  
"Get yourself one while you're at it."   
  
"I'm not legal to drink yet."   
  
Albel snorted and reached out to accept the wine. "Perhaps elsewhere. You're more than old enough for spirits in Airyglyph." He looked at the youth over the rim of the goblet. "It'll help calm your nerves, but only in moderation. I don't want you drunk, just relaxed."   
  
"You seem pretty calm to me," Fayt observed. "What do you need it for?"   
  
"It eases the ache in my shoulder."   
  
"… oh."   
  
The younger man did, indeed, pour himself some of the wine before returning to Albel's chair and settling down near his legs. Silence extended between them, both contentedly sipping their wine in the comfortable warmth of the room. Neither spoke until the older man tossed the book he'd been reading into the fireplace with a disgusted snort.   
  
"What'd you do that for?" Fayt asked in a sleepy voice, lifting his head from Albel's knee.   
  
"I'm just demonstrating my opinion of the author," came the unperturbed response. "You've been asleep for at least an hour. Perhaps you should go to bed." Albel looked down at the upturned face of the youth. He wouldn't tell the teen how his hair had been tickling his skin or that, when attempting to shift the offending tendrils, his fingers were reluctant to abandon the silken strands. Nor would Albel say anything about how the younger man had turned into the brush of his fingertips much like an affection-starved cat.   
  
"How come you're not tired?"   
  
"I've more experience with wine and spirits. I know how to pace myself when imbibing. Not to mention, I only had one refill while you had four." Albel was amused slightly by the face that Fayt made in response to his answer. "If you can't get there on your own, I'll help you."   
  
"But, I'm comfortable here," the youth argued, yawning.   
  
"I'm sure you are, but my leg's starting to go numb." The warrior shifted, trying to get feeling back into his calf and thigh. Once Fayt had moved enough, Albel stood up and held his hand down to the younger man. "Come on."   
  
Taking the offered hand, the teen allowed himself to be lifted to his feet but swayed dangerously, forcing Albel to catch him around the waist. "Careful. I don't need you taking us both down," he warned.   
  
"Sorry."   
  
"You apologize too damn much," Albel complained, half-dragging the younger man to the stairs. "If I want an apology from you, you'll be the first to know."   
  
Fayt grew somewhat more helpful along the way, putting his feet under him with reasonable surety as they ascended to the next floor. "Why're you being so nice?"   
  
"Likely, you won't remember the difference either way come morning, so abusing you isn't much fun right now." Albel lamented the fact that he'd only one usable arm, two would make it far easier to get the younger man moved. At Fayt's door, he let him go to open it, then looked down at the boy's face. "Sleep it off. We can deal with your hangover in the morning."   
  
Nodding, the youth staggered into the room and fell across his bed. With a sigh, Albel closed the door before leaning against it in the hall. Fayt, without meaning to, had given the Black Brigade's commander much to think about indeed.

* * *

Continued in Part III


	3. Chapter 3  (Second half of chapter is NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has explicit M/M sex. You are warned.

* * *  
Two weeks passed after the azure-haired youth's arrival. Only a few days after he left the Airyglyph capital, he ventured out into the unwelcoming weather and made his way to visit one of his other friends: Nel Zelphyr.   
  
By the look of things, Fayt's visit to Aquios did not go well at all. His eyes were reddened now, as though he'd been crying for a number of forgotten hours. Even at the dinner table, which had been set by Albel's servant, the young man said almost nothing and ate less.   
  
Afterwards, the commander of the Black Brigade had not expected the younger man to pour himself a generous helping of his strongest wine. Albel looked up from the book he'd been perusing and frowned. This was not like Fayt at all and he didn't approve when people around him became unpredictable.   
  
"Not that I give a damn, but did something happen?"   
  
Fayt didn't even look back at the older warrior when he spoke. "Nel's dying."   
  
This did raise an eyebrow from Albel. The Aquarian agent was not someone who could be laid low easily. "What happened to her?"   
  
"Apparently she picked up a sickness in the Kirlsa Mines when we were copper hunting," Fayt informed him. Finally, he turned back around, showing the other man the twin trails of tears that coursed over each cheek.   
  
"By your reaction, this is no ordinary sickness." Albel rose and approached the younger man. In truth, he did respect Nel Zelphyr and her dedication to her own country. Not that he would leak this to Fayt.   
  
"No. It's a disease. One that can only be treated by a rare flower that grows on the highest mountain peaks in Airyglyph."   
  
Albel knew exactly what Fayt spoke of. That flower was rare indeed. "You're talking about the Eye of Apris. It's believed that they're extinct now."   
  
In a rush, the young man gripped Albel's shoulder. "I have to find that flower! I can't just let her die!"   
  
"You could search for years and never even find a dead bloom of that plant. The ones that could be reached easily were already destroyed by those who abandoned the god."   
  
Albel turned away, taking a few steps back to his chair and then stopped. "Although… there is one mountain peak that might not have been defiled. If they exist anywhere, that would be the place to look."   
  
Fayt was on that opening in an instant. "Where?"   
  
"It's impossible to reach," Albel countered, shaking his head. "Only the largest dragons have the strength to reach the top."   
  
"I'll ask Crossell to take me."   
  
That drew a snort from Albel who sat back down in his favored chair. "He'll refuse. He's already said that his servitude to us is over. Likely, he'd immolate you where you stood."   
  
"But I have to try," Fayt began, only to be cut off by a hiss from the swordsman.   
  
"He'll refuse and kill you. If you're so desperate to find this flower, I know a better way that won't get you killed outright."   
  
The younger man looked hopeful as he gazed over at Albel. "How?"   
  
"You'll owe me for this one," Albel said lowly, picking up his book again.   
  
"Please, Albel," he was implored, the youth rushing to his side and kneeling. "I'll do anything!"   
  
To see the young man who had defeated him in battle like this disgusted and disturbed the commander. He sighed at last and turned his scarlet gaze on the youth. "Generations ago, the Nox family entered into a pact with one of the dragon-lords. In return for arranging it so that one of their females would become Crossell's mate, draconian honor dictates that they aid all members of the Nox family as needed."   
  
Albel sighed again. "I'll take you to see Lyvithia tomorrow. If she agrees, you'll get your chance to find that damnable flower."   
  
* * *  
"Lyvithia," Albel said from the mouth of the gigantic cavern in which he stood. He saw movement at the back of the chamber, a great shifting of stronger than steel muscles, then the dragon's head came into view.   
  
"Young Lord Nox," came a decidedly feminine voice, the volume far softer than most dragons used. "What brings you here? I've not seen you since your father died."   
  
Steeling himself and forcing his body to move into the cave, the swordsman indicated that Fayt should follow. "I want you to listen to his request."   
  
"Very well," Lyvithia said before shifting her massive bulk around to face the pair.   
  
Quietly, Fayt spoke to the Marquisa, pouring out the story of Nel's current predicament. He gave all the details he'd been told by the healers of Aquios and recounted what he'd been told of their attempts to find the cure. The young man even went so far as to tell the female drake what kind of death lay in store for Nel in the not too distant future.   
  
By the time he was done, Albel noticed that more tears had started pouring from the younger man's eyes.   
  
It was with a sad tone to her voice that the she-dragon addressed the boy afterwards. "I'm sorry, young Fayt, but I can do nothing for you. My clutch is too close to hatching and, with Crossell handling affairs between our kinds, I can not leave them unattended."   
  
"I commanded you-" Albel began angrily.   
  
"To listen to his request," Lyvithia finished, her wise gaze shifting, "which I have done. The pact between us is for the Nox family alone. The boy is an outsider, therefore I'm not bound by my honor to serve him in any way. My clutch takes priority, young lord."   
  
"Fine then," the swordsman countered, "take me to the mountain top."   
  
She shook her head in answer. "That won't do. The boy has already pleaded his case, so I would not be doing this for you, but him. Not since before your grandfather has any member of the Nox family been a middle-man."   
  
"Damn you, Lyvithia…"   
  
"Don't snarl at me, Albel. The boy is neither an heir nor a consort. He has no ties to your family at all." The dragon's voice became more gentle. "I'm truly sorry, Albel… but I must abide by the pact."   
  
"Who said he wasn't my consort?" Albel asked, looking Lyvithia right in the eyes.   
  
"He may or may not," came her deft verbal counter, "but he is neither official nor just a passing fancy. You haven't made him yours, in any case. I applaud your clever and quick thinking. Had I been one of your kind, I might have been taken in."   
  
The she-dragon watched Fayt walk out of her cavern before letting her kind eyes move to the young lord as he too was departing. "Albel?"   
  
Pausing in mid-stride, the swordsman looked at the drake over his shoulder, waiting. He didn't dare speak because he knew his temper was about to explode and that wouldn't help the situation. He wouldn't be able to get Fayt what he needed if his anger alienated the draconic Marquisa.   
  
"If the boy returns here with your scent strongly mixed amidst his, then I won't be able to deny a claim that he is your consort."   
  
Albel turned fully, too shocked by what she said to remember his anger. "But, that would-"   
  
"I don't need an official decree," she continued gently, "all I need is to know that you've made him yours… even if it's just for one night. I'm willing to bend the stipulations of the pact so that the boy is not bound permanently."   
  
"Lyvithia?"   
  
The great dragon sighed. "Please understand, Albel. As his mate, Crossell puts heavy restrictions on me. Helping the boy would give me a chance to stretch my wings and have a few moments of freedom… but, Crossell would not allow me to do so unless its in accordance to the pact I made with your great-grandfather. Not even the Marquise of dragons would interfere with Draconian Honor."   
  
"So, he keeps you prisoner here?" The question came as Albel took several steps towards the female dragon. "Is that your only purpose to him? To be weighed down with his eggs when you're in season?"   
  
Head cast down, her voice was unwavering but still heavy with melancholy. "I am his mate… as per the arrangements with my father."   
  
"That poses a problem, doesn't it?" Albel said nonchalantly. "Especially considering I may have need of you when spring arrives. Once this clutch hatched, I was going to have you move to the Kirlsa mines…"   
  
Lyvithia almost seemed to smile at the words. "We can discuss that, young lord, upon your return after you make the boy yours."   
  
Albel left the cavern in a much better mood, though pensive. He stepped outside into the sunlight, drawing in a breath of fresh air, and then blinked when he heard an enraged roar from further down the path. Looking in that direction, the commander saw the younger man exhibiting an uncharacteristic display of anger. This just wouldn't do, he decided as he started walking down to the road. It was embarrassing.   
  
"I can't believe I'm the one to say this," Albel began as he watched the teen in the midst of his temper-tantrum. "But kicking rocks, throwing your sword, and screaming at the top of your lungs isn't going to get you to that mountain crest."   
  
Fayt whirled around, his breathing rapid from the wave of despaired anger washing through him. "You heard her, Albel! I'm not a member of your family so she won't help."   
  
"I heard her far better than you did, idiot," came the terse reply. "There is a way around this… but it depends on you."   
  
The boy stopped in mid-kick of another rock, momentarily startled from his rage. "What do you mean?"   
  
"How much does that Aquarian woman mean to you? What would you give in order to save her?"   
  
"Anything! Even my own life if I had to! Nel saved Cliff and I when we first got to Elicoor." Fayt rushed Albel, his face only inches from the swordsman's. "Why? What did she tell you?"   
  
"Moron. You answered my question. If you mean what you just said then you've got nothing to worry about. We'll be able to reach the mountain top tomorrow." Albel pulled away from Fayt and continued walking to where the Dragon Brigade soldiers were. "We'll return tomorrow and she'll take you up with her."   
  
"What did she SAY, Albel?"   
  
The swordsman turned his head, giving the youth a look that cautioned immediate silence. "It's not a discussion to be had here. We'll continue this conversation at my home."   
  
* * *  
"Do you know what a 'shield-mate' is, Fayt?"   
  
"A what?" The teen, for all his intelligence, had apparently never become familiar with the term.   
  
Albel poured two goblets of his strongest wine, handing one to the youth before settling in his most comfortable chair. "It's a military term. I'm sure you've noticed the distinct lack of females in Airyglyph's army."   
  
"Uh… yeah."   
  
"Soldiers are just men and men have certain needs. Sometimes, they'll fulfill those needs with each other; hence the term 'shield-mate.'"   
  
The meaning slowly began to seep into Fayt's consciousness and he looked over at Albel uncertainly. "Okay. So, just what does that have to do with anything?"   
  
"Everything," the commander answered simply. "Lyvithia doesn't want you to give up your life for her aid… Though, if you meant what you said at the mines, then you should be happy it won't come to that."   
  
Fayt frowned, looking down in his cup, seemingly afraid of his next question but knowing he had to ask anyway. "So… what am I giving up?"   
  
The answer was straight-forward and spoken entirely seriously. "Your virginity." Albel paused to let the blunt response sink in. "She will only help you if you're a member of the Nox family: either as an heir or as a consort. Because I will not saddle you with the responsibilities of my family and, since there's so little time left, we're going to have to improvise."   
  
"Albel," the youth said, his voice a soft and nearly inaudible whisper. "I-I've never… not even… with a girl…" Fayt covered this sudden nervousness by taking a deep drink from his wine.   
  
"I know. It's obvious," Albel remarked calmly.   
  
He could hear the audible swallow from Fayt, saw the uncertain and innocent look shift, hardening, become one of determination. It was what cinched it for the swordsman that the teen would follow through with this before he'd ever said a word.   
  
"If that's the only way, then I guess I have no choice."   
  
"You could choose to let her die," Albel offered, though he knew the teen wouldn't accept that.   
  
"No! I owe her too much, both as a comrade and as a friend."   
  
Setting down his empty goblet, Albel turned to leave the room. "Fine then. Go bathe. When you finish, I'll be expecting you at my chambers."   
  
Little more than an hour later, the commander stood in the center of his chambers combing out the damp tendrils of his hair. Albel, too, had taken the time to bathe since he was sure that Fayt was going to have to work up his nerve. That being the case, he was uncertain as to just how long it would take for the young man to finally arrive at the door of his bedchamber.   
  
He'd chosen his room, his own bed, for the sole purpose of comfort - both his own and the youth's. While Albel could sleep anywhere, he preferred the overlarge and immensely comfortable bed that resided only a few feet away. It would be all the more appropriate for what was going to be happening.   
  
It had been a long time since the swordsman had taken anyone to his bed, man or woman, and up to now it had never been _this_ bed. Considering the circumstances, he fully intended to do his best to keep this experience from being traumatizing for the younger man. Before the bath, he'd even changed out his artificial arm for the one that would be far less intimidating.   
  
The knock, when it came, was almost too quiet to be heard. Albel opened the portal, nodding when Fayt stood before him, garbed in the dressing robe that he'd donned after his bath. "Come in."   
  
Silently, the youth passed through the door, his face hidden and avoiding the commander's completely. His nervousness was total, not just in the averted eyes, but also in the trembling of the fist clenched at the teen's hip. Reaching out, the nobleman lifted at Fayt's chin, forcing his gaze up.   
  
"I won't think less of you if you change your mind," Albel said, his voice softer and gentler than Fayt had ever heard it.   
  
"I've made my choice," the youth said, despite the tremor to his voice.   
  
Albel nodded before leaning in, his mouth halting next to Fayt's ear. "You're going to have to relax," he said in that same soft voice. The proximity altered the tone slightly, drawing a shiver from the younger man.   
  
He started slow, cautiously, pressing a small series of kisses against the side of the teen's throat. Albel wanted to be certain of how such advances would be received. While he was not usually one for such build-up, he knew that it would be necessary for this situation. When Fayt's arms wound up around his back, the swordsman pulled the younger body in close, so they were pressing together firmly.   
  
Albel could feel the thundering of the young man's heart in his chest, the trembling in the thin frame, the increasingly laborious breath. Fayt was starting to relax and allow himself to be swept away by the sensations. That was the moment that Albel chose to initiate a kiss, his first ever, and found not even a token resistance. The hands at his back clutched a little tighter, forcing them closer, and Albel parted the lips under his to deepen the kiss.   
  
Fayt made a sound then, caught somewhere between a moan and a whimper. It was not contrived, it was an honest noise that incited a little more aggression from the older warrior. His right hand shifted, catching one edge of the upper robe, and pulled it off of the teen's shoulder. Albel let his attentions wander to that bare skin, nipping at it, pressing kisses against the clean flesh.   
  
Before he'd fully bared the youth's upper body, Fayt had tangled one hand in the loose dark strands at the back of Albel's head. The youth said nothing and soft sounds of appreciation spurred the commander into further action. He bathed Fayt's nipples with his tongue, drawing each one between his eager lips, working gently at them with his teeth to tug them into hardened points.   
  
That was when the younger man finally found his voice, though it was breathless, enough to sound out a simple plea. "Don't stop, Albel."   
  
The commander had no intention of stopping, or slowing. While it was Fayt's first time entirely, this was the first time ever that Albel had engaged in prolonged foreplay of any kind. So far, the swordsman decided that he enjoyed it nearly as much as the youth who was currently his focus. Part of him wanted to see just what other kinds of sounds he could pull from that young, virginal body.   
  
He turned Fayt around, pressing against the teen's back, his flesh hand rising under the lowermost hem of the robe. Albel's mouth continued lavishing attention against the younger man's shoulders and neck even when his hand took hold of the teen's swelling sex. Fayt almost squeaked in surprise, the sound interrupted when the callused hand stroked the velvety skin, encouraging the organ to fully harden.   
  
"Should I continue, Fayt?" Albel asked huskily, unable to keep from teasing the youth. Already, the boy's hips were pitching in rhythm with his hand, driving himself more fully through the swordsman's grasp.   
  
His answer came, not in words, but in the form of a hand in his hair pulling him close enough for a frenzied kiss. Albel accepted the affirmative response, diving between Fayt's parted lips for another taste of him. Caught up in the mood, the swordsman ground against the teen's back, giving his own hungry body teasing friction.   
  
Fayt's rhythm began to falter, growing increasingly spasmodic, but Albel continued stroking him. It was not unexpected when the youth cried out, his head falling back against the older man's shoulder while warmth seeped over the back of Albel's fingers. The teen sagged against the lithe form behind him, gasping and panting, while his knees struggled to keep him upright.   
  
Mercifully, Albel guided him to the bed and coaxed him to lay out on the soft surface. Under his crimson gaze, the youth colored slightly, just now realizing that the robe only barely concealed him. "This is going to get in the way," Albel said, unknotting the cloth belt before spreading the garment open to reveal the youth completely.   
  
Under those eyes, Fayt trembled visibly, and the commander noted that with some satisfaction. His previous lovers had been experienced, had passed the point of shyness or embarrassment long before his time with them. Albel liked the honesty of the youth's reactions.   
  
He discarded his stifling robe, revealing to the teen that he was also enjoying himself, his own swollen length rigid and dripping against his lean stomach. Albel brought his hand to his mouth, the white pearls of Fayt's climax still clinging to his skin, and lapped each one away with his tongue. The taste wasn't nearly as bitter as that of his past lovers, proving that the teen had done his best to remain healthy.   
  
Another point in Fayt's favor this night.   
  
Albel took that same hand, the fingers sliding through the clear pearls of his own desire, before offering them to the teen. "Taste me," he commanded in his husky voice. To his surprise and pleasure, Fayt did so, drawing as many of the digits as he could into the warmth of his mouth.   
  
While the youth was so occupied, he swept down, dark hair trailing against the boy's skin, and took Fayt's deflating cock into his mouth. The suction against his fingers tightened in surprise and a gasp lodged in the youth's throat. He could still taste the remnants of the young man's climax, causing him to purr slightly and quicken his actions to draw up more still.   
  
It was Albel's turned to be surprised when, not very much later, he felt the youth's hand against his own sex. The stroking was unsure and even somewhat clumsy, but it was proof that the teen was going to try to be active during this first experience. Albel purred again in approval as he continued his attempts to make Fayt ready for more.   
  
When moist warmth engulfed the head of his cock, it took all Albel had not to choke. He pulled free and looked back, his gaze obscured by the teen's azure hair. He felt the suction, could see the muscles of Fayt's throat working, and smiled to himself. Already, the boy was proving that he would, most likely, be a very satisfying lover just on enthusiasm alone.   
  
One that Albel was going to enjoy as much as possible throughout the night.   
  
Since the teen was busy and focused, the swordsman wetted his index finger thoroughly with saliva. Returning to his aborted oral pleasures, he gave the youth plenty more time to become accustomed to the mutual act. Then, he carefully pushed that digit against and through the barrier of Fayt's opening.   
  
The teen pulled free of his length and turned his head as though he were going to say something. Albel chose that brief time to stroke his fingertip inside the youth, making Fayt's body go rigid and drawing forth a short, shocked cry. Without mercy, he repeated the caress, feeling the teen's strong hand grip his leg at the involuntary reaction.   
  
"You don't want me to stop this," Albel warned the youth, his voice heavy with lust and need. "I have to stretch you so I don't hurt you later."   
  
Fayt nodded, gasping, and tried to resume his inexperienced attempts at returning the oral pleasure. Twisting carefully, Albel reached to the small table beside the bed and took up the bottle of oil he'd put there earlier. Gently, he put the liquid to use in helping ease the passage of his fingers as he worked on opening the younger man's body to him.   
  
Once the teen was fully relaxed around three of his long fingers, the swordsman shifted on the bed, pulling Fayt off of him carefully. "Turn around, on your knees, and hold the frame of the bed," Albel instructed hoarsely, his hands urging the youth to hurry and obey.   
  
He moved behind the younger man, pressing his chest against Fayt's back, the palms of both his hands sliding against the damp skin. "So far, you've enjoyed this," Albel whispered, nuzzling under one of Fayt's ears with a purr to his voice.   
  
"Yes," came the soft reply, though it wasn't needed.   
  
His tongue flickered out, lapping against Fayt's pulse slowly. "I'm going to take you… infuse my scent into every part of your body…"   
  
The youth moaned at the words, barely understanding in the haze of almost desperate need that overwhelmed him. Albel pressed the head of his cock against the stretched opening, pushed against the teen steadily, until he was sliding in. "You've trusted me so far," the swordsman said with a groan, trying to forestall any panic. "Don't lose that now."   
  
Once he was fully buried, Albel pressed his forehead against the teen's shoulder, trying to maintain his sanity whilst in the grip of that tight embrace. He could feel Fayt shuddering around his length, growing used to the sensation of being filled. The youth's hands gripped the wooden frame of the bed so strongly that his knuckles had gone white. When Albel noticed this, he frowned slightly.   
  
"Am I hurting you?" he asked, his voice low.   
  
Fayt shook his head, then answered verbally. "No… j-just not used to… to… having something back there…" The swordsman could see a light suffusion of color form all along the youth's neck and chuckled.   
  
"You'll forget about that once I start moving," Albel promised. His lower body drew back, then reversed and he thrust forward carefully. He both heard and felt the moan Fayt gave at that, pulling a smile from him before repeating the gesture.   
  
At first, the rhythm developed by the swordsman was slow and steady, more for the youth's benefit than his own. Once Fayt had relaxed into what was happening, Albel shifted the teen so that he was on all fours. He leaned over that strong young back, his tongue sliding along a shoulder blade, his thrusts resuming.   
  
Every time the youth threatened to climax, Albel would prevent it by changing their positions. To his pleasure, the teen didn't complain. When the swordsman knelt over Fayt, uniting their bodies again, the younger man wound his arms around Albel's neck and pulled him down for an overdue kiss.   
  
Going into that kiss, Albel quickened his thrusts. Perspiration ran in rivulets down his back and shoulders, testament of both the intensity and his patience. "I think I like… this way the… best," he heard Fayt whisper when the kiss broke.   
  
"Then this is how we'll finish," the swordsman answered, reaching between them with his flesh hand to take hold of Fayt's wet cock and stroke it.   
  
That young frame reacted to the stimulus by gripping him even more strongly, the caress around his length tightening to an almost maddening degree. Albel couldn't keep himself from intensifying his sensual assault, driving in harder and faster. Below him, Fayt's head thrashed back and forth, as if trying to deny the pleasure overwhelming his senses.   
  
The crest broke, washing over the swordsman suddenly, and he howled as his climax overtook him. Each pulse robbed him of breath and strength, filling his veins with white-hot fire while he filled Fayt with his essence. His hand flew along the youth's organ, forcing the teen to join him only heartbeats later.   
  
Albel collapsed against the younger man's heaving chest, spent and boneless. Though he was certainly weakened, he welcomed the lethargy that was already creeping over his trembling frame. He could feel each of Fayt's breaths, the teen's body experiencing exactly what he was, and it lifted the corners of his mouth in a small smile.   
  
"Oh, God," Fayt murmured, his arms sliding around Albel's back, the youth's slender fingers tangling in the long strands of the commander's hair.   
  
"Tomorrow," Albel said lowly, shifting his head to look at Fayt's face, "we'll go back to Lyvithia and she'll take us up the mountain."   
  
The younger swordsman's eyes closed briefly before reopening to meet Albel's gaze. "Thank you."   
  
"Tch… shut up and go to sleep, idiot," Albel chastised lowly, though it was free of his usual mocking tone, "before you say something stupid."

* * *

Continued in Part IV


	4. Chapter 4 (More NSFW elements in the second half)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once again, this chapter has explicit M/M sex. You're again warned.

* * *  
The next morning, Albel opened his scarlet eyes slowly. The solid warmth pressed against his left side and shoulder surprised him, drawing his gaze that way. Fayt was still there, in the bed, sleeping soundly against him. The younger man's left hand rested on Albel's chest over his heart.  
  
So far, he seemed none the worse for wear after his experience the night before.  
  
Albel brought his right hand up, using it to rub at his eyes. His own slumber had been soundless, deep, and devoid of the nightmares that plagued him. It had been a long time since he could claim such a thing. Perhaps his determination and zeal when dealing with Fayt's predicament had brought about a… reward of sorts in that regard.  
  
He was going to have to wake the younger man up, and soon, if they were to reach the mountain crest early enough. Once they found the flower and returned to the lower reaches, Albel could have the Dragon Brigade give them a far swifter trip to Aquios so the physicians there could make use of the bloom.  
  
Of course, that was all depending on whether or not the Eye of Apris hadn't gone fully extinct.  
  
He was broken from his thoughts by movement, feeling Fayt rousing slightly, stretching out the stiffness brought on by sleep. "Are you awake yet?" Albel asked in a low whisper.  
  
"Mm-hmm." The azure head rose showing sleepy green eyes to the commander. Once reality hit, the face around those eyes went crimson. Fayt now realized and remembered: both of the men were nude in the same bed.  
  
It was almost comical and pulled a smirk to Albel's mouth.  
  
"Your robe is on the floor next to the bed - the left side to you."  
  
"Uh, thanks," Fayt stuttered out, trying to get to that side of the bed without giving up the shielding of the blankets around them.  
  
Albel caught him with both hands, holding him still. "Stop squirming, idiot. I'll get it for you." He rose from the bed gracefully, reaching down to lift the teen's robe and toss it to him.  
  
"Aren't you cold?" Fayt asked when the older man made no moves to cover himself. He himself was struggling to get into the garment and get it righted under the thick comforter.  
  
The commander looked over his shoulder at the teen. "I'm used to this kind of weather. Besides, someone has to coax the fire back to life. I'm not going to trust that to you."  
  
When Albel knelt to do just that, he heard Fayt shift on the bed, but the youth didn't leave its warm embrace. "I never realized just how thin you are," the younger man said softly.  
  
"Hmmm?"  
  
"You look almost… anorexic."  
  
"Is that some kind of pathetic insult?" Albel retorted, turning his head from the weak, though steady fire he'd been working at.  
  
"No, no… I just… It's unusual to see a man of your height so slender," Fayt answered in an attempt to placate the sometimes volatile man.  
  
"Hmph. My father said I took after my mother that way," Albel responded, returning his attention to the fireplace.  
  
Fayt was silent for several minutes before he spoke again. "You… never knew her?"  
  
"No," came Albel's honest answer. "She died shortly after I was born."  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
That sympathetic reaction caused the swordsman's head to tilt curiously and he half-turned to regard the younger man. "You idiot. Why would you say something like that?"  
  
"Because no one should lose both of their parents so early."  
  
The conversation was now becoming uncomfortable. Albel wanted to end it before it went any further. He settled for a logical reason, that one being the easiest and most appropriate. "Hmph. It doesn't matter. Get your lazy ass out of bed and get ready. The sooner we go, the sooner we get back and I want this done with."  
  
The young man took the hint, rising from the bed slowly with a wince. He gave Albel a soulful look before exiting the room silently. The door closed behind him with hardly a sound.  
  
As soon as he was gone, the commander stood again. Chances were, he'd either offended the boy or hurt his feelings. Well, there was no help for it now and it didn't really matter. The subject of Albel's family was always a sore one; something that even the king only touched on when absolutely necessary. Fayt was just going to have to deal with the feelings he'd provoked in himself over the matter.  
  
Albel had no inclination to try to soothe him… but why the hell was it even bothering him in the first place?  
  
He shook it off and set about to getting dressed. Too much had to be done today and, if he didn't start moving soon, it would be well into night before he had the chance to rest again. Albel dressed with a soldier's efficiency before moving to bind his hair.  
  
Likely, he would have to take Fayt again before they got to Lyvithia in order to keep his scent strong on the youth. The mountain winds were fierce the higher they rose and he didn't want to risk last night's efforts being pulled away. With that in mind, he tucked a small vial of the oil he'd used on the teen into the belt of his sarong before leaving the room himself.  
  
* * *  
The clouds surrounding Lyvithia's mountain had decided that their trek up was a good time to start spewing snow. It was bitter cold, but only out on the open paths. Albel put his gloved hand on Fayt's shoulder and directed him towards the shelter that the soldiers often used when the weather became unmanageable. "Get inside," he shouted, trying to be heard over the wind.  
  
Once inside, they barred the door but made no attempt to remove the protective layers of clothing covering them. Albel immediately set about to building a fire in the center of the shelter. "I was afraid of this," he muttered while skillfully piling thinly split logs over the kindling.  
  
"What?" Fayt asked, his voice muffled by the heavy scarf around his shoulders and throat.  
  
"The weather around this mountain is only rarely stable. That was why Lyvithia chose it. It helps to protect her egg clutches from unwanted visitors."  
  
The teen nodded at the reasoning and edged closer to the fire pit. Ever since that morning, he'd been rather quiet and had said very little to the commander. Perhaps he was trying to keep from upsetting Albel again. Perhaps he was focusing on the task at hand. Whatever the reason, it annoyed Albel. He preferred it when the young man was predictable.  
  
"We should be able to go back out in about an hour, maybe two at most," Albel said before pulling the fur-lined heavy robe from his shoulders. The fire was catching, already giving some warmth, though he was sure that Fayt would remain covered until it was a healthy blaze. "Don't put your hands too close to the flames," he warned when the youth shifted closer.  
  
"My hands are fine," Fayt said after pulling down the uppermost hem of his scarf. He held out another of those odd, heat-producing pouches and shrugged.  
  
"Clever," Albel said, complimenting the boy for the first time. "There's hope for you yet."  
  
The praise made Fayt blink before he looked at the older man. "Are you feeling all right? I think that's the first time you've ever said anything… nice about me."  
  
"Are you complaining? I can take it back. Keep prattling and I'll change my mind."  
  
Fayt went silent after that, prompting the young commander to turn his gaze to him.  
  
The room was warming up and becoming almost pleasant, which made Albel realize that if he was going to take the boy again, it had better be soon. He reached out with his flesh hand and wrapped it around the back of the younger man's head.  
  
Without allowing Fayt to offer even a noise of surprise, he drew him into a full and deep kiss. Immediately, the teen gave a soft moan in his throat which evoked that primal instinct in Albel. When he broke the kiss, his voice was hoarse as he spoke. "I'm going to take you again... You're going to cry out for me... and I'll force my scent into every part of you."  
  
There was a low groan at the words before Fayt nodded his assent. Albel knew the youth probably didn't need much preparation after the previous night, however the oil he carried would still be necessary. He reached up and separated the edges of the boy's coat, pulling it off, then tossed it aside without a second thought.  
  
Fayt's shirt vanished in much the same way before Albel was pressing his face against the younger man's chest and licking at it fervently. Hands clenched around the two long tails of hair that fell along each side of the commander's neck as the youth sought some kind of anchor against the pleasurable onslaught. There were no protests or objections when Albel tugged meaningfully at the younger man's lower garments.  
  
When the teen was nude, the swordsman let his flesh hand run up one of the slim legs, only halting when it reached Fayt's rapidly swelling sex. Albel wrapped his fingers around the length, stroking it, listening to the sweet gasp the sensations evoked. That his companion was so hard already was a surprise.  
  
The next surprise was when Fayt leaned in to press kisses against his throat, the younger man's mouth dragging up to Albel's ear. The boy groaned harshly into that ear and it caused Albel to make a hungry noise in response. He didn't stop to consider the fact that, up to now, none of his lovers had ever managed to create such a strong reaction within him.  
  
"Can I touch you this time?" the teen asked him in a lust filled voice. Just the words and tone of it caused the older man's blood to quicken, making Albel nod his head just once.  
  
He started with Albel's chest, using his fingers to tease at the older man's nipples through the cloth of the half-shirt Albel wore. Though inexperienced, the teen's enthusiasm more than made up for the lack of finesse. As he did this, Fayt's lips brushed kisses against the swordsman's throat, causing the man's head to fall back enough to allow the youth more room to work.  
  
Fayt worked his way down Albel's body, sliding to his knees between the man's thighs, and reached under the sarong to take the commander's cock in hand. The blue-haired teen ran his tongue along the length in broad sweeps, forcing a moan out of Albel's throat. Putting his hand out, the swordsman brushed his fingers through the silken hair as a show of encouragement to keep Fayt going.  
  
It felt good. Albel couldn't keep his hips from rocking forward when the teen took him into the warmth of his mouth. A low groan escaped him as he shuttled back and forth slightly, the sounds falling from between his panting lips hungry and urgent. When he couldn't take it anymore, Albel hauled the boy up and gave him a fierce kiss. As their tongues tangled, he pulled Fayt onto his lap while shoving aside the cloth from his lower body to expose himself.  
  
A shaking hand dribbled the oil down his length and the swordsman groaned again when Fayt smoothed it over every sensitive ridge. "I need you, Albel," the teen breathed into his ear, the tone of his voice pleading.  
  
"You'll have me," the man promised with a growl, jerking the boy closer to his heated body. There was no preamble as he started pushing his length into the opening. Albel watched while Fayt cried out in a low voice, his head falling back as his body accepted the invader with little resistance. The swordsman shifted them forward until the blue haired youth was on his back by the fire.  
  
He was pulled down into an eager kiss by the teen as he gave the first careful thrust into the supple form below his. Like before, Albel took his time with Fayt, backing down when it would overwhelm the youth and filling that interim with teasing caresses. The younger man didn't seem to mind at all and the sweet sounds of pleasure came from him easily.  
  
"Keep me like this... as long as you can," Fayt begged him with passion glazed eyes.  
  
Albel lifted one of the slender legs over his arm and drove into the youth with a single, full thrust. "Little fool," he panted out as the boy's body arched up in bliss, "that was my intention all along."  
  
When the commander's own need for release couldn't be put off anymore, he drew Fayt's knees to his hips; thrusting into the youth fully and quickly. Albel reached down, grasping the teen's neglected length, roughly stroking it. The boy cried out under him at the touch, his eyes open but unseeing as everything went white for him. Even as the ribbons of Fayt's release painted his stomach and chest, Albel slammed in a final time, his own peak sudden as he filled the boy with his own.  
  
The arms that wound over his back as he collapsed against the slim chest were trembling, but adamant about keeping the man where he was. Fayt was the first person in many years that had ever held him like this. No previous lover Albel had taken felt the need to remain so close once they'd been given what they wanted. Part of the man wanted him to rip free of that embrace and curse the boy for his sentimentality.  
  
There was, however, another part that was less often heard. One that seemed almost greedy for this kind of simple affection. Albel had no illusions that this was the last time they would be entwined like this, so he indulged that lesser voice. Truth be told, the teen was warm and had never been anything but inviting or kind - even when he was trying to talk sense into the older man.  
  
"Can we... stay like this a while?" the boy asked in a low, soft voice. One of his hands had lifted, threading quivering fingers through the loose dark hairs at the swordsman's temple.  
  
Albel resisted the urge to turn his head and look at the younger man's face. He allowed a rare, hidden smile to rise up before settling more comfortably against Fayt's warm body. "Sure."  
  
* * *  
Dragonflight got them to Aquios a lot faster than conventional travel would have. With the flower Albel had identified as the Eye of Apris in hand, Fayt raced to the chief healer in the royal palace and nearly begged her to hurry up and use it. He knew that it was starting to get critical for Nel; that her time was growing ever shorter.  
  
The commander of the Black Brigade managed to drag the youth out of the woman's way and into the hall, despite his struggles and protests. "What do you think you're doing, you idiot?" Albel asked him in a sharp voice. "With all the trouble we went through to get that flower, do you really think you're going to help her by getting under her feet every time she turns around?"  
  
Fayt's head bowed at the chastising and his hands clenched into trembling fists. "I... I just want her to get better, Albel."  
  
"Then let the woman do her job. You're of no use in there now. Accept it.”  
  
The swordsman was not prepared for it when Fayt buried his face against his slim chest and clutched at his narrow waist for support. Albel wasn't sure what he was supposed to do after ignoring his initial urge to shove the young man off. Instead, he settled for laying his hand against the teen's bent neck and rubbing it lightly.  
  
"She'll live," he said at last when it seemed as if the youth wouldn't be consoled easily.  
  
"What if we were too late?" Fayt asked, his voice muffled.  
  
"She'll live," Albel reiterated in a firm tone. "A warrior of her skill won't be laid low so easily, especially with a cure having been given her."  
  
When the young man's head lifted, Albel wasn't surprised to find him crying again. He sighed and used his hand to guide Fayt from the room where he'd been hassling the healer. Neither of them spoke as the swordsman took the teen back to the quarters they'd been given for their stay.  
  
Inside, he walked to the window as the younger man settled himself down on one of the beds. "I'm... I'm sorry, Albel," Fayt said softly after a few minutes.  
  
The commander looked sidelong at him from where he was standing and gave a low snort. "Hmph. You should be. Having you hounding that woman was embarrassing."  
  
Such a typical "Albel" response actually drew a laugh from the young man and he half-turned on the bed to stare at his profile. "I don't know what you'd do if I changed into something you wouldn't berate," Fayt chuckled out. "I think you like having excuses to call me names and complain about me."  
  
"You say that as if I need an excuse," came the retort. "I don't."  
  
"I know, but... Thank you, Albel." The younger man's voice was sincere and so was his gaze when the swordsman looked over at the words.  
  
The crimson eyes of the man raked over Fayt's face for the merest of seconds. "Be silent. If I ever want your gratitude, I'll tell you."  
  
"Albel, just say 'You're welcome' and then shut up."

* * *

Continued in Part V


	5. Chapter 5

* * *  
Voices filtered through the door as Albel prepared to knock. While he was not normally one for eavesdropping, when he heard his name, his hand stilled. Beyond that barrier of wood, Fayt and Nel were speaking.   
  
"… he actually did that? How many teeth did you have to pull?"   
  
Fayt chuckled a little. "None."   
  
There was a short pause before Nel spoke again. "You've spent time with him, beforehand, I mean."   
  
"Yeah. He's not so bad once you get past the death-threats."   
  
"I think, perhaps, you give him more consideration than you used to," Nel pointed out, her voice still weak but clear.   
  
"He's lost right now," Fayt said back, his voice low but carrying. "We're the same, a little, on the inside."   
  
Nel chuckled, the sound turning into a hard cough that lasted a few minutes before calming. "Lies aren't like you, Fayt."   
  
The youth's voice was clearly surprised. "W-What do you mean?"   
  
"You give yourself away. Your eyes soften when the subject of him comes up… which is more often than not, your doing. It's probably too soon to expect him to reciprocate what's in your heart, Fayt."   
  
There was hesitation here, before the boy answered. "He's my friend, Nel."   
  
"And your lover," she countered skillfully, "in body if not heart."   
  
Albel could almost see the crimson stain that likely darkened the youth's face and neck. "That's… where things get complicated," he heard Fayt say at last.   
  
"That's always the point where they do." He heard Nel shift on the bed, immediately followed by Fayt's boot steps on the stone flooring.   
  
"You shouldn't be moving around yet," the younger man chastised the woman.   
  
Nel would not be coddled, it seemed. "I'll be fine." There was a silent pause. "Albel Nox isn't a man who can be won over with gifts and words. He's seen how easy it is to take both away. The only advantage you have right now, Fayt, is your innate honesty. It's fortunate for you that Albel knows you're not one given over to lying."   
  
"He finally admitted to being my friend," came Fayt's hesitant response to her words.   
  
"Which is far more than anyone else can claim." Albel heard Nel shift again, heard also Fayt's annoyed reaction to it. But the woman was not done speaking yet. "He might try to push you away, deny whatever feelings he may develop towards you. If you love him, don't let him do that."   
  
"That won't be easy."   
  
"If you think it's worth it, then of course it won't. If love was easy, then everyone would have it and no one would want it. It's the challenge that makes the end results worth the work." Nel snorted, her voice filling with amusement. "Besides that, the only weapons he has that would work on you are his words. Words sting, but do little lasting damage to the persistent."   
  
"… You're right," Fayt said, his voice a bit faded as if in thought.   
  
"The hardest step is admitting our feelings. After that, things are somewhat smoother to flow along with."   
  
Albel turned from the door and walked back down the hall. That woman's words hit a little too close to home by his reckoning. His mind dived all along the conversation, throwing him into a dangerous storm of emotions. He lost himself in that swirl, his feet moving of their own volition, until he found himself in the city proper.   
  
The view was a beautiful one. He stood high in one of the lesser-traveled areas overlooking the ocean. The sight did little to calm him, however.   
  
Love. He scoffed at the notion. The boy was bedded only to save that woman's life. Yes, he had admitted to friendship, there was no denying that. But the one person that Albel had ever loved was long gone.   
  
How dare that Nel Zelphyr encourage Fayt! Even though he was nearly twenty, the younger man was still far too green to the ways of the world. Concepts such as love were whimsical and fanciful, of no use on a battlefield. Such things only got one hurt if they indulged in them too often or far.   
  
* * *   
Despite the commander's misgivings and his belief that Fayt would remain in Aquios, the youth didn't. As soon as he realized that Albel was preparing to return to Kirlsa, the younger man started doing the same. This raised a few unasked questions in the swordsman, but he didn't bother to voice them. Oft-times, the teen was given over to explaining himself eventually. Albel would simply wait for it.   
  
It took a few days, but the subject did come up after they'd returned to the Nox Estate. The winter was growing ever colder, which was the exact reason that the older man had returned. He didn't want to be shut out of his own house due to the weather. Albel had mulled some wine and, after a bit of convincing on the teen's part, was allowing Fayt to share it with him.   
  
"Nel didn't want me hovering over her during her recovery," he said between sips as he sat on the floor by the commander's favorite chair.   
  
Albel snorted at that, flicking his crimson glance the youth's way. "Of course not. You get annoying when you try to mother people."   
  
Fayt looked up over his shoulder at the other man and frowned. "I'm not that bad, Albel."   
  
"Hmph," was all the older man had to say in answer. After that he continued to remain silent, drinking slowly from his wine, fully aware of the verdant gaze that the boy had locked onto him.   
  
The quiet stretched out and still the eyes stared at him, eventually drawing Albel's own gaze back to the youth. "What?" he snapped out in irritation.   
  
"When we... when we returned to Lyvithia," Fayt began in a soft voice, "she referred to me as your consort. What did she mean by that?"   
  
"More often than not, it's a term used to identify a male lover," the swordsman explained before sipping his wine again. "In this case, it's used amongst the nobility for a man who has the equivalent status of a spouse - usually someone tied to another man."   
  
Fayt seemed to consider that, his gaze finally pulling from Albel as he gave the information some thought. His silence didn't last before he turned back to the man again. "Why aren't you married?" he asked at last.   
  
"Because I have no patience for a pampered, primadonna pet who swears her fidelity to my face and yet intends to sleep with every member of my household except for me. If I marry, it will be to someone who I am in no doubt about their loyalty."   
  
"The king hasn't tried to match you up yet?" Fayt asked in a low voice.   
  
"Several times," Albel said, his voice bordering on a snarl as he thought about that fact. "But, I can't trust a single one of them."   
  
"You're not going to trust anyone very easily," the teen agreed. "It's kind of a good thing that you're someone who can be trusted."   
  
Albel snapped his gaze on the younger man, watching as the blue head leaned back against the armrest of his chair. "What the hell do you mean by that?" he asked.   
  
"Well," Fayt began, "you've never betrayed my trust in you. Once we had our little 'talk,' everything just fell into place." He looked over his shoulder at Albel, causing the swordsman to regard him with a serious expression. "Besides, since I came back to Elicoor... You've done nothing but given me even more reasons to trust you."   
  
"If you have a point to make," Albel finally said as he met Fayt's gaze, "then kindly get to it and stop dancing around with words. It's irritating."   
  
"Fine. If that's how you want it."   
  
The teen shifted onto his knees, turning around to look at the swordsman with unreadable green eyes. He crossed his arms over the armrest of the chair, keeping their gazes locked. "I want to stay here with you."   
  
"If that woman gave you some kind of romantic notions, kill them now," Albel warned as he looked at the youth.   
  
One of Fayt's eyebrows rose. "I see you heard us," he told the older man. "What if I had those kinds of notions before she and I spoke?"   
  
"Kill them. There's a difference between bedding someone and what you're saying."   
  
"I'm pretty sure I'm not mistaken in remembering that you were getting into it, too. Both times. If you were just trying to help me, then I'm positive it wouldn't have been quite as intense as it was." The tone of the youth's voice was an unmistakeable challenge.   
  
Albel leaned in, his crimson eyes just as intense as ever. "I knew I was your first. I may be a bastard about many things, but I won't ruin someone in such a way. Had I gone about it by any other method, my honor would have been compromised."   
  
It didn't take much effort for Fayt to move, positioning himself between the swordsman's knees. Albel was surprised by this and leaned back, watching the teen warily. "What the hell are you doing now, idiot?"   
  
"I liked the things you did to me," Fayt told him. "I liked how it made me feel and I liked doing those things to you, too. If you enjoyed it, then what's the problem with us doing it again?"   
  
He'd lost control of the situation. Albel was also dangerously close to losing the argument. The teen was right, in a sense, but only so long as he wasn't trying to make something more out of it.   
  
"I did come here to see you more than anyone else," Fayt admitted under the older man's stare. "I knew I'd be safe here, with you."   
  
Albel couldn't get away from the hand that reached up to his face so he grasped the wrist instead. "You couldn't have known that I'd allow you to stay here."   
  
"You're right. I fully expected to have to stay at the inn." The boy met his gaze. "Maybe I am the fool you're always claiming me to be. I know you don't feel the same. You can't. Albel, you hate yourself so much that you can't love someone else. But, out of everyone you know, who can you tolerate the most?"   
  
"You've made your damn point," the swordsman said and released the wrist. "Shut up about it and do or say whatever it is you want to."   
  
"I want to become your lover," Fayt bluntly told him.   
  
Albel's head tilted a bit as he watched the youth. "Lover implies exclusiveness."   
  
"I know. I don't trust anyone else to touch me like you did."   
  
"How do you know I won't take another as well?" the man asked the teen in a serious voice. "You're not the first to make such a request of me."   
  
Fayt's head shook at that. "I don't know, but I trust you. I've never doubted your honesty." He reached up with both hands and drew the slender swordsman closer. This time, Albel didn't resist him.   
  
When the teen's lips met his, the commander answered the soft press. When the kiss broke, Albel looked at Fayt with his crimson gaze. “You're the only one I've ever allowed to do that,” he said at last. It was his way of trying to make the younger man understand that he _did_ hold a special sort of significance.   
  
“Kissing?” the blue-haired youth asked, surprised.   
  
Albel nodded his answer, still watching the teen for his reaction. Part of him rankled at the idea that the youth meant more than the rest of the general populace. The greedy part in him, the one that had been craving for even a little affection over the years, reveled in victory.   
  
“That makes me happy,” Fayt said, a shy smile forming on his face. He lunged forward and wrapped his arms around the older man's middle, a contented sound reverberating from him.   
  
It only took a moment for Albel's flesh hand to lower to the blue hair and stroke through it gently. As much as he tried to deny it, Fayt did make everything press on him a little less heavily. Once, he had intervened on an attempt to take the younger man's life, which had been the cause of him getting swept up into the strange adventure with the 4D beings. It wasn't because he was greedy for battle, no.   
  
Belatedly, the commander realized that it was because he did care about the teen. If Fayt had gone and gotten himself killed in some strange place, Albel didn't think that he would have handled it well, even back then. Now? All he knew about now was that he wanted the boy around, despite his protests.   
  
Perhaps he protested and denied it so much because he was testing to see if Fayt would prove the exception to the rule. He wanted the teen to defy him. No matter how much he tried to argue the reasoning with himself, he knew only one truth.   
  
Albel wanted, more than anything, to mean something to someone. He wanted to know that there was at least one person out there, in the wide vast universe of existence, that considered him important on a personal level. Fayt had become that person and maybe the idea didn't seem so abhorrent to him because of that fact.   
  
* * *  
_Heat...   
  
The smell of burning flesh...  
  
The scream of someone in horrible agony...  
  
Arms that often were a shelter falling away...  
  
Lifeless eyes..._   
  
It was sometime after midnight when Albel woke with a terrified scream. That same dream again. The one he'd been having for years since the death of his father, Glou Nox.   
  
He rose from the bed, raking his flesh hand through his hair and sighing heavily. That dream hadn't plagued him for a couple of weeks now. Why did it suddenly spring up again? He'd barely slept in three nights because of it.   
  
The swordsman looked around. He was at Airyglyph castle at the behest of the king. It looked as though the commander and his Black Brigade would be seeing some action soon, but not against the kingdom of Aquios. That little joy meant nothing at the moment, however, as he pondered what the hell had changed.   
  
Only one thing came to mind; Fayt.   
  
The more he thought about it, the more it seemed to make sense. Every night he'd spent with the teen had been free of the nightmares that so often interrupted his sleep and left him a wreck come morning. Over the years before, Albel had actually learned to function on as little as two hours of sleep a night for weeks at a time.   
  
Somehow, the blue-haired boy was able to bring him a sort of peace that allowed him to sleep fully and freely.   
  
And Fayt was currently at his estate while he took care of matters here.   
  
“Damn.”   
  
If he wanted to be honest with himself, he did miss the youth's presence in the bed next to him. Since Albel had agreed to let the younger man become his lover, they'd shared his bed. Surprisingly, there hadn't been as much nocturnal activity as he'd expected on the part of the youth.   
  
It was almost as though Fayt considered just being there enough for him. There had been sex, definitely, once they'd started sharing the bed. And it was just as good as it'd had been before, if not better.   
  
That surprised the swordsman. Since he was already fully awake, he gave that more contemplation as well. What was different?   
  
Albel broke the situation down, piece by piece, until he got to the core. That was the best way to consider and then solve, or resolve, an issue. He ripped away every unnecessary piece of information until he came to an answer.   
  
It was such a simple thing, really. The answer also surprised him yet again. The core of the fact was, without the knowledge that he wasn't going to be bedding the boy again, he wasn't nearly so... concerned about the time taken. He could enjoy the sex much more leisurely.   
  
The commander was still intense about how he went about his pleasure, but he didn't feel pressured now. He could take his time in exploring each sensation given and received. That was what had made it better.   
  
In fact, now that he thought about it more clearly, Fayt had become the same way. He still reveled in the intensity, but he was also taking it at his own pace. It was far more mutual now, especially with the fact that the younger man was being an active participant. Up until Fayt had entered the picture, sex had been about sating an urge.   
  
Which meant there was a far deeper meaning behind what he and the teen were doing. Albel would probably never admit it, but he couldn't just cast the younger man to the side like he'd done with past lovers. And, unlike them, he was also taking pleasure in the feelings he could impress on the blue-haired teen.   
  
The picture this painted was becoming more than a little uncomfortable for Albel. It put him in a position he'd been avoiding for so long and now, here he was, trapped in the very thing he didn't want happening all over again. Unfortunately, Fayt was just that same kind of person, too.   
  
Would the swordsman be able to live with himself if the youth was forced to make the choice between his own life and Albel's?   
  
Even the idea of the teen dying brought a furious clench in the man's chest and he clutched at it with his flesh hand, staggering. Albel had damned himself, unthinkingly. It was a mix of selfish and selfless that had him cornered. On one hand, he didn't want Fayt to die because of him but, on the other hand, he couldn't bring himself to drive the boy off.   
  
Try as he might, he couldn't think of a graceful, easy, or even complicated way out of this. That in and of itself was plenty enough to keep him from sleeping the rest of the night.   
  
* * *  
“These rebels are trying to rekindle war between Airyglyph and Aquios,” Arzei said to both Albel and Woltar the next day during a luncheon. “We can't afford this, by any means, and I want them stopped.”   
  
Woltar was about to say something in return when the doors of the dining room opened to allow the new leader of the Dragon Brigade entrance. Albel had yet to meet this person and immediately looked over. His initial reaction was surprise.   
  
The Dragon Brigade's new commander was a woman.   
  
“Forgive my tardiness, Majesty and lords,” she said in a low voice and bowed to the other three. “I make no excuse for my lateness, but offer that I had to deal with the Marquise as my reason.” She walked around the table and took a seat next to Woltar, giving the old man a respectful nod as she did so.   
  
“Did something happen to Crossel?” the king asked her, his voice holding much curiosity.   
  
“No, Majesty,” she replied with a shake of her head. “But he was agitated over a group of miscreants who had attempted to steal some of the eggs in the latest clutch.”   
  
Arzei looked at the woman much more seriously. “Explain, Carianna.”   
  
The words had also managed to snatch up the attention of the bored Albel, who looked at her with a little more respect. If she'd managed to calm the King of Dragons, then she was formidable indeed.   
  
“The idiots had, somehow, managed to scale the mountain leading to Lyvithia's lair,” she told them all. “While they didn't succeed, they did destroy two of the eggs in their haste to escape. The Marquisa barbecued one of them, but several more still eluded her. My riders are scouring the mountainside to find them.”   
  
“Should I mobilize the Black Brigade?” Albel asked, turning to the king. He was almost a little too eager for action.   
  
The ruler shook his head. “No, Albel, I have another task for you,” he told the swordsman. “Lady Carianna can handle the situation with the dragons. I want you to focus on rooting out and capturing the rebels.” He gave the commander his total attention. “I want them dealt with as quickly as possible.”   
  
“Sources have placed a group of them in the Peterny area,” Woltar said, mostly to Albel, but addressing the whole table.   
  
Carianna nodded at the news and looked towards the Black Brigade leader. “I have a few of my dragon riders there, Lord Nox. I will send them new orders to be at your disposal should you require it.”   
  
The offer surprised Albel and he looked at the woman curiously. “For what purpose?”   
  
“The rebels are a threat to us all,” she said matter-of-factly. “I see no need to squander a potential resource that you may be able to use. Unlike my predecessor, I put the honor of our King and Airyglyph over such trivial things as personal pride.”   
  
Those were the words that the woman spoke, but Albel heard something else. To him, the woman seemed to say that she believed the forces should be unified, regardless of the size of the threat. Such a thing was practical. Albel could respect that completely.   
  
He gave her a nod. “Your foresight is much appreciated,” the swordsman told her. “If you could, have them start routine patrols for suspicious activity until my forces arrive.”   
  
Carianna gave the idea consideration. “A good plan. I'll send a few more, not too many, to give them a buffer. Patrolling such a wide expanse of land can dull the eyes after a time.”   
  
“Even better,” Albel responded to that, giving another nod to the woman. “Is there anything my soldiers can do to assist your efforts?” He caught the surprised expressions on both Arzei and Woltar's faces at his question. This amused him a little.   
  
Fingers tapping at her lips, the female commander gave it some thought. “It might be a good idea to post some guards at all the entrances to the mountain passes,” Carianna said after giving it good consideration. “That may help these miscreants re-think their notions of tampering with the clutch again.”   
  
“Consider it done,” Albel said to her with a nod. “I've a unit doing nothing but whining about the lack of activity. They're yours.”   
  
The woman smiled at him. “My thanks, Lord Nox.” The Dragon Brigade's commander then looked towards the king. “Majesty, if I may be excused so that I can take care of the matter immediately?”   
  
“Of course, Lady Vell.”   
  
Carianna rose and bowed to the men before exiting the chamber. Albel watched her go, thinking to himself about how much more he could accomplish with the apparent cooperation of the new blood at the table. A faint smile found his mouth before he turned back to the other two men.   
  
“What?” he asked in response to their amused faces.   
  
“You seemed rather... friendly towards her,” Arzei answered. He had that look on his face that said he was plotting something. A quick glance from Albel to Woltar showed a similar expression.   
  
As if he knew what they were thinking, and in all likelihood, he did, the swordsman's eyes narrowed just a fraction. “If either of you are considering trying to tie us together into something that you think would be... lasting, forget it,” he told them.   
  
Woltar peered closely at the young man he'd taken in so long ago. “What would give you that idea, boy?”   
  
“Because both of you have paraded eligible women in front of me since I was sixteen,” Albel snapped back. “I have a lover, one that I've given my word to. If you're plotting a marriage in my future, kill the notion now. I'm not interested.”   
  
“Really?” Suddenly the king was very interested. “Would it have anything to do with the guest at the Nox Estate?”   
  
Albel realized his mistake very quickly. Arzei knew Fayt was at his home, he'd told the man himself just the other day when he'd asked about the youth. He only hoped that Woltar hadn't been told, otherwise, he would be questioned in-depth about it later.   
  
“That's none of your business, your Majesty,” Albel answered the man, choosing his words much more carefully. “My private life is my own and not up for review. Not now or any other time.”   
  
“Carianna would be a good match,” Woltar said, looking towards Albel, trying to convince the man to at least think about it.   
  
“Not interested,” the swordsman reiterated, his crimson eyes flashing towards the older lord. “For once in my life, I'm at least a little content. Don't tamper with that by planning some foolish marriage machinations. If you do, all my respect for you will flee, old man.”   
  
The elder lord demurred, lifting his hands in a placating gesture. “I'm merely thinking of your future, boy. That's all.”   
  
“My future is my own,” Albel said, Woltar's concern taking only a little of the heat from his gaze. “I don't need anyone else's assistance when it comes to that subject.”   
  
“Calm down, Albel,” the king said while reaching out his hand towards the younger man. “If this lover does for you what you claim then I see no need to change that. I'm sure Woltar will agree, even if he seems eager to marry you off.”

* * *

Continued in Part VI


	6. Chapter 6 (NSFW in first half)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And one more round of M/M sex, this time in the first half. You've been warned.

* * *  
The commander of the Black Brigade had two days before he was to head out with his force. Instead of staying at the royal palace, he returned to Kirlsa. He wanted the sleep he knew he wouldn't be getting while he was gone and he needed to tell Fayt what was going on. Albel knew that, in all likelihood, the teen wouldn't like what was going to happen, but there was just no way around it.  
  
Albel had a job to do and Fayt probably understood that his duty had to come before his personal life. If he didn't, well, then it was too good to last anyway. Part of him secretly hoped that the younger man would be accepting, regardless of what might happen.  
  
It had been snowing again, unsurprisingly. The swordsman pulled his fur-lined cloak around him tighter as he dismounted from his lum and approached the doors of his home. He had just reached the threshold when the door opened, surprising Albel, and he was hauled inside.  
  
He couldn't even get a greeting out before his lips were stolen up in a kiss and a pair of lean arms wound around his narrow waist. Albel recognized the taste and scent of his lover, bringing his artificial hand up to the back of Fayt's head as his other hand loosened the heavy cloak. It carelessly fell to the floor while he pulled the younger man flush against his lean body.  
  
“I missed you,” the youth said as he broke the kiss.  
  
One of Albel's eyebrows rose at the declaration. “Idiot, I was gone less than a week.”  
  
Fayt shook his head. “That doesn't matter.”  
  
“Tch,” was the swordsman's only response. He looked down into the youth's face, trying to gauge his mood. “I've got two days free.”  
  
“Albel, let me come with you. You know I'm a good-”  
  
“No,” the commander said with a note of finality to his voice. “I'm not discussing or arguing this with you again, Fayt. I already told you the reason.”  
  
The younger man slumped in defeat and sighed. “I know...”  
  
“Are you still angry at me for denying you?”  
  
Fayt shook his head again. “Not really. I... I just wanted to spend some more time with you. That's all.” He pressed himself against the swordsman again, burying his face against Albel's neck.  
  
“I don't see why. I rarely ever say anything nice to you.” He tried to keep himself from winding both arms around that warm, inviting form. Unfortunately, Albel liked how the younger man felt against him.  
  
“I've learned to listen to what you don't say,” the blue-haired teen murmured against his skin. The sensation of the breath against his flesh drew a shiver from Albel, who tightened his arms around Fayt. “That's nice,” the youth purred in response.  
  
The older man was amazed at how receptive and appreciative the youth was to the smaller gestures of affection that Albel had thought himself incapable of before. Though the man wasn't given to random touches, the times when he would hold Fayt when they weren't being intimate seemed to be just as welcome as his more arousing caresses. Albel lifted the teen's chin and brought their lips together.  
  
Fayt gave a pleased sound at that, one of his arms shifting so his hand could rise to the back of the swordsman's head. Albel could feel how the younger man's heartbeat quickened when the kiss started, amazed at such a reaction. Often, the only time they ever did kiss was during sex. Other than that, it was incredibly rare for Albel to initiate it himself.  
  
“Bed me?” Fayt asked in a soft voice when they broke apart. This was the first time the words weren't accompanied by a blush.  
  
Albel put his mouth close to the teen's ear. “I'm barely in the door and you're asking already?”  
  
Now the color rose to Fayt's cheeks and his green eyes lowered to the floor. “I want something to take my mind off the fact you're leaving soon,” he explained in a low voice.  
  
“Idiot, I won't be gone that long,” Albel told him. “You make it sound like I'm not coming back.” He was surprised when the younger man's arms tightened around his waist and the blue head buried against his chest.  
  
“I can't help it,” Fayt whispered.  
  
“Maybe I should bed you soon... to keep you from saying something dumb.” Albel pulled the young man away from the door and started leading him up the stairs to the master bedroom. Fayt didn't resist, going along with very little urging.  
  
As they reached the door, the teen started pressing kisses against Albel's throat. The commander tried his best to ignore the reaction that had him wanting to shove the youth against the outside of the door, only letting it break free when they were in the bedchamber itself. Once he'd closed the portal, he pressed Fayt against it, locking their lips together in a hot kiss.  
  
The younger man groaned into Albel's mouth, the sound almost desperate. The swordsman worked at Fayt's shirt, prying it from him until his upper body was bare. He only broke the kiss to let his lips travel over the revealed skin, evoking a happy sound from the teen who reached over Albel's slender back to grasp the half-shirt the man wore and tug at it.  
  
It came off without any argument, getting tossed forgotten to the side. Albel hungrily resumed his attack on the young man, marking Fayt's skin with bites. The blue-haired teen clutched at him, gasping in the wake of the sensations that threatened to overwhelm his wits. “Albel,” he moaned, looking at the other man with half-lidded eyes.  
  
The voice that called his name was hungry and lust-laden, drawing the commander's crimson gaze upwards as he finally stripped the pants from the younger man's lower half and tossed them over his shoulder. Fayt was already aroused, the wet tip of his cock weeping in anticipation. Albel took it in hand, stroking it roughly, and the youth cried out.  
  
“Take me here,” Fayt gasped, splaying his legs while his fingers clawed at the wood of the door behind his back.  
  
Albel nodded at that and hastened to get the oil he kept near the bed, returning as quickly as possible. He poured it over his fingers, rubbing them together to coat them thoroughly, before pressing his digits between the teen's thighs. Fayt's strong hands grabbed his shoulders as his sensitive ring was caressed, stroked, and stimulated.  
  
There was a lustful cry as Albel pushed two fingers into the lean body. Fayt reacted seemingly on instinct, pushing down against the hand to get them as deep as he could. The swordsman worked against that press, rubbing his knuckles against the bump within the younger body so he could draw another of those hungry sounds. He wasn't disappointed.  
  
“Albel, please,” the teen begged desperately.  
  
The impassioned cry caused Albel's cock to harden considerably, and he grew impatient with the need to bury it in the boy's heat. He readied Fayt more quickly than he normally would have, shoving his sarong aside before he grasped and lifted Fayt's legs. His entry was swift, gravity assisting as he lowered the younger man on his hard length.  
  
His hands held the younger man's hips, keeping him in place as the thrusts began. Albel drove in, his strokes deep, building a frenzied pace almost immediately. Fayt grasped his shoulders, fusing their lips together in a hungry kiss, rocking his body.  
  
In no time, the teen peaked, his cry of release lost in Albel's mouth. The swordsman pulled Fayt from the door and took him to the bed. Albel resumed the frenzied thrusts as he lay the youth down and braced over him, shaking the lean body from each impact. The tight hold around him constricted as Fayt moaned, his senses overloaded.  
  
Then, Albel arched, his eyes closing, as he gave an abrupt shout. His fingers bruised the skin at the teen's waist and his essence poured into the younger man, the rush of orgasm blanking his mind momentarily. When the swordsman collapsed on Fayt's chest, the youth held him close, still panting from his own completion.  
  
After he'd caught his breath again, he pushed up on his arms and looked down at the teen beneath him. The marks of his possession were still fresh on the younger man's skin. His crimson eyes swept down, finding each one and counting them. “I'm sorry,” the swordsman said as he ran his fingers against one of the teeth imprints.  
  
Fayt looked down at the touch and smiled faintly. “Don't worry about it,” he told his lover. “It's not like it's the first time you've done it.” The younger man reached up and brushed his fingers against the side of Albel's face. “Leave as many of those on me as you want.”  
  
“Why should I?” the swordsman asked with a raised eyebrow.  
  
“I like it,” the teen admitted, “and it marks me as yours.”  
  
“I don't own you,” Albel told Fayt with a confused expression. This was probably one of those in-depth sentimental things that he wouldn't understand.  
  
The younger man sat up a little. “No... but I gave you my body when I asked you to let me be your lover.” Fayt pointed to several different imprints and then, finally, the finger bruises. “Every one of these tells me that I'm wanted. By you. That my being here wasn't a mistake.”  
  
“Little fool,” Albel chided him as he pushed the youth back down. “If I didn't want you, you wouldn't be here. I'd have left you in Aquios.”  
  
“I know,” Fayt said in a soft voice. “But, when you're gone, these are the only reminders I have.” His hand shifted so he was cupping the side of Albel's face with his palm.  
  
The commander snorted a bit, but didn't offer one of his favored insults to his lover. He reached up, taking Fayt's wrist in a gentle grip, though he didn't remove the touch. “I don't know what you think you see in me,” Albel said in a low voice, “but I don't mind you being here. No matter what I may say, or deny, it's truth.”  
  
A smile found Fayt's mouth at that and he gave a little nod in response. “You're the only person who doesn't make unreasonable demands of me, Albel. You don't veil your words with ulterior motives and you're honest when we talk. I lo-like that about you.”  
  
Albel had caught the aborted word in the syntax of the sentence and knew instantly what the teen had stopped himself from saying: love. It proved that Fayt understood him enough to realize that such a word would not be well-received by the commander. Though they were lovers, yes, he would not approve of the use of that particular word. Not now, definitely. Not ever, probably.  
  
* * *  
The night before Albel had to ride out for Peterny found the commander and his azure-haired lover in the main room of his estate. They sat before the fireplace, wrapped in one of the thick blankets kept downstairs for warmth. Fayt was leaned back against the swordsman's chest, between Albel's long legs, his head resting against the older man's shoulder. The teen was toying with a handful of Albel's loose hair; curling it around his fingers absently.  
  
“You're going to be careful, right?” the youth asked Albel, looking at the man sidelong from his position.  
  
Staring into the fire, the dark-haired man snorted a little. “Like those traitorous maggots could do anything to me. I'll be back in a week.”  
  
Fayt smiled lightly at that, releasing the lock of hair to reach up behind his head and lace his fingers at the back of Albel's neck. He shifted enough to press a soft kiss under the other man's chin. “Don't you have to know where they are first?” he asked in an amused voice.  
  
“Maggots like these always hole up in the same places and, by habit, they always go to the same places. We'll probably find a handful of them in one of the seedy dives,” Albel explained with another snort. “A bit of pressure will get us the rest of the morons.”  
  
“Then it's probably good that you'll take care of it fast,” Fayt said, looking up at the man again. “So you won't be able to think too hard about an easy win.”  
  
Albel met that verdant gaze, a dark smile touching his mouth. “I do prefer a challenge in combat, yes. But it seems I won't be getting one any time soon.”  
  
“I know,” the youth said. “My fault.” Fayt settled back against him and closed his eyes. “It just wouldn't feel right fighting you now.”  
  
“Give me time,” the swordsman said in response. “I'm sure I'll do something to change that.” He slid his arms around Fayt's middle and pulled the younger man more fully against him.  
  
Albel couldn't help but enjoy this closeness. After his father had died, there'd been no one in his life, other than Woltar, to fill the need. This had left an aching void in the commander that he'd channeled into his anger and rage. Slowly, Fayt was working against that emptiness.  
  
While Albel didn't want to let it be filled at first, the greedy bastard he was had latched onto the opportunity and refused to be denied.  
  
The younger man purred in his throat at the shift, a sound which Albel only barely heard at first. It surprised Albel, really. When Fayt had first broached the subject about becoming the commander's lover, he'd thought the youth was simply in it for the newly discovered sex. It had taken the better part of the month for the man to realize that the teen seemed to have an obvious affection for him that had gone beyond the intimacy.  
  
Now that he thought about it a little more, the agreement with Lyvithia did nothing more than open a doorway for Fayt to act on. Since he knew that gentle sentiment would not have won Albel over, he had to use something much more tangible and realistic. Despite knowing the younger man's feelings after overhearing the conversation he'd been having with the Aquios woman, Albel had let him.  
  
Perhaps, even in disregard of his own personal arguments about it, Albel needed this, too. The realization almost had him shoving the teen away from him. Almost, but not quite.  
  
Though he'd never be able to admit it, Albel had thought of Fayt over the last year when he'd been gone. The others, they didn't matter. But the blue-haired youth... after his sound defeat at the teen's hands, Albel had looked at the boy with more respect. No one had ever bested him in combat before.  
  
That was what had made the younger man more remarkable than the rest. It was his passion and his spirit that had made the difference in that battle. Albel had been going through the motions, serving his liege. But, not Fayt. Fayt had been driven by something else entirely and had, somehow, managed to sweep Albel up in it, too.  
  
For a short time, the swordsman had felt a sense of purpose to his existence. Then, once Luther was defeated, that feeling had washed away to be replaced with emptiness. It had taken Albel a little time to recover from that, but when he did, he'd gone back into life the same as he'd always done.  
  
With the reintroduction of Fayt into that boring life, things just seemed a bit brighter, perhaps.  
  
Albel nuzzled the blue-hair at his cheek before addressing the younger man again. “It's getting late. We should head up for bed.”  
  
“Can't we stay like this a little longer?” Fayt complained in a soft voice.  
  
The question brought a smirk from the swordsman. “Did I say it was for sleep?” he asked the youth.  
  
When Fayt looked up at Albel's face, the man curled his warm fingers under the teen's chin. “I recall you wanted me to leave my marks on you,” he said with a low tone. “Wouldn't it be better if they were freshly placed?”  
  
Fayt turned in the circle of his arms, smiling at the words. That smile stunned the swordsman just a little. “Yes, it would,” he told the older man.  
  
“Maybe, you should return the favor,” Albel said before running his thumb over Fayt's lower lip. “I know you've been wanting to.”  
  
“Am I that transparent?” Fayt asked, smiling again.  
  
“You've no idea.”  
  
* * *  
The crossroad town of Peterny was its usual hustle and bustle when Albel arrived with his soldiers. He checked in with the dragon riders that Carianna had sent to help cover the patrols and learned that there really hadn't been much in the way of activity. That knowledge was a bit frustrating, to say the least.  
  
Fortunately, it wasn't nearly as bitter cold in the lower altitude so Albel didn't need the warmth of his cloak. He didn't bother removing it just yet because it also served a secondary purpose. One that he hadn't given much thought until a soldier casually pointed out a dark stain against his skin under one ear. Private inspection had shown several more of the bruises.  
  
Albel had been in such a hurry to get on his way that he'd taken no notice of any of these marks Fayt had left. His second in command, however, had pointed out a couple that were rather suspicious. Unlike his predecessor, Shelby, this new second was an intelligent sort who knew his place and knew when to keep his mouth shut. One dark glare from the commander had sealed the man's silence about the bruises almost instantly.  
  
It wasn't at all that he was ashamed by them. It was the fact that it would cause rumors amongst his soldiers. Questions would come later, of course. These would only worsen the rumors.  
  
Then again, if it kept some of the other nobility from trying to match him with their daughters, perhaps this wasn't such a terrible thing indeed.  
  
He left his second in charge of the troops with orders to have a few of them go to several of the taverns incognito. After this, Albel procured himself a room at the Luxury Inn. He wanted solitude.  
  
After a bath, the swordsman studied himself in the long mirror. Fayt had taken him more than seriously when he'd left his own marks on the slender body. Albel found faded teeth imprints on his skin, a few bruises from the youth's fingers, and still more marks at his shoulders and throat.  
  
There were even a few hidden around the collar Albel wore, though he could not remember when they were put there. He reached up and, tentatively, unclasped the heavy weight from his neck. It had been years since he'd removed it, but he wanted a better look.  
  
The suckle bruises were a lot more intense there, as if Fayt knew leaving them in such a place would be safer and less likely to be noticed. Albel reached up, brushing his fingers against one near the hollow of his throat. Had he not removed the collar, he'd have never noticed it.  
  
“Idiot,” he chuckled softly to himself, shaking his head a little.  
  
He put the heavy adornment back into place, hiding those marks again. Part of him said to leave it off and show the rest of the world that he wasn't available or eligible for their idiotic ploys or ideals of marriage. He was a private person, however, and didn't succumb to that little desire. If need be, he would probably end up with still more later, so it wasn't necessary for now.  
  
Albel also patently refused to analyze the part of him that seemed to revel in the marking. The idea of being so utterly claimed was a thrill that he felt, but didn't explore. Perhaps it was something similar to what Fayt felt when he looked at his own body and saw the evidence of their continued intimacy?  
  
If that were the case, then no, he couldn't fault the teen for wanting the repeated reminders. When someone was suffering the feeling of being lost, the most important thing to them was to have something or someone to belong to. Albel could understand that implicitly.  
  
* * *  
The planted soldiers were netting no favorable results. Albel and Veran, his second in command, both worked at a solution that might offer something better while they took in a quiet dinner. However, there was precious little that could truly be done.  
  
“Lord Nox,” the younger man said as he addressed his commander, “to be honest, I don't think they're here anymore.”  
  
Albel leaned back in his chair at the dining table and rested his chin against the back of his prosthetic claw. The frown on his face said that he believed the other man was probably right. “It's been a week,” he finally told Veran. “The cowards probably ran back to their masters as soon as we arrived.”  
  
“If so, sir, then maybe we should focus our search closer to home. With you here,” Veran added, “they'll be more likely to try something drastic.”  
  
“Tch.” The disgusted sound preceded Albel lifting his hand to his forehead with a long-suffering sigh. “These bastards are starting to annoy me,” he said at last.  
  
Veran didn't respond to that as he studied the map. Woltar had marked the areas which pointed out the locations that the spy network had found, but closer investigation got nothing from them. They'd been abandoned fairly recently.  
  
“Sir?” he said, looking over at the commander.  
  
Albel's crimson eyes rose to Veran's face and one eyebrow rose at the questioning tone.  
  
“Maybe... we should slip out quietly,” his second said. “In small groups at odd hours, few will notice us leaving. If we leave a unit behind, no one will be the wiser that our main force went home.”  
  
The wisdom of the suggestion brought a vicious smile to Albel's face as he sat up in his chair. “And it'll make the maggots more likely to slip up.”  
  
“Exactly, sir. Since we know they're from our country, we know they're probably based in Airyglyph somewhere. Maybe we should start quiet investigations of our more remote locations?”  
  
“A sound plan,” the swordsman agreed. Albel looked more closely at the map, pointing out a few potential choices. “Send small units here, here, and here. Make sure that the idiots understand they're not to engage any of these traitors unless given no choice. I want information first, not our own blood spilt.”  
  
“Since you're staying at the other inn,” Veran said, looking at his leader, “I'll upkeep the rent on the room so that any unfriendly inquiries will think you're still here. I think it's best that you slip out tonight, my lord.”  
  
“Oh?”  
  
Veran smiled a bit and gave the other man a shrug. “You've been kind of grouchy the last few days this week. Maybe, sir, I'd like for you to get back to your woman and let her calm you down.”  
  
Any other time, the words would have caused an angry reaction. However, because of his subordinate's obvious ignorance, Albel started laughing. “And what makes you think I have a woman waiting for me?” he asked Veran once his mirth began to fade.  
  
“My lord, a man who keeps company with a whore doesn't come away from such encounters with marks on his skin like the ones you had. It's obvious.” Veran looked relieved that he wasn't about to suffer for his bold statements. “Whoever she is, she must be one formidable creature to be able to hold her own against you.”  
  
Albel leaned back in his seat again, looking at the man from under his dark lashes. “If only you knew,” was his cryptic response.

* * *

Continued in Part VII


	7. Chapter 7

* * *  
Upon his return to Kirlsa, there was no cheery fire waiting for Albel when he arrived at his estate. He'd taken great care to travel at night, unseen, and didn't stop at Arias at all. The swordsman had, instead, traveled around the riverfront town through the Bequerel mountain paths. Since he knew the Kirlsa Mines so well, he'd taken that route to return home.  
  
It wasn't so late that Fayt should have been abed already.  
  
Albel searched around, looking for anything out of the ordinary, but found little to assuage his sudden trepidation. Finally, he walked up to the doors and found one open just slightly. The commander gripped his sword and gave it a push.  
  
All the evidence was inside. A struggle had taken place, he could tell as he walked in. Fayt was, by no means, a pushover and the damage to his home showed this. However, seeing as the house was dark and empty, he had been overtaken.  
  
Why hadn't someone alerted him about this? The coals in the fireplace were at least a half day cold. Surely his servant would have seen something and notified the guards. For that matter, where _were_ the guards? Albel growled and turned around, ready to go get some answers, when his eyes alighted on the back of the door he hadn't opened.  
  
There was parchment there, held in place by a dagger. The dark haired man ripped it down and looked at it, his red eyes reading over the lines quickly. His fury only grew more severe as he did so.  
  
_“Lord Nox,_  
_We have your consort. If you desire to see him alive again, you'll come alone to the Kirlsa Training Facility. Any attempt to alert the guards or call in your Black Brigade will seal his death._  
_Do as we say and no harm will come to him.”_  
  
Albel crumpled the parchment in his fist with an angry snarl and started pacing. There was a fear in him that Fayt would do something to get himself killed, but he let his anger overshadow that. As he paced, he gave more consideration to the words that threatened both him and the teen.  
  
Then, he stopped cold and unwrapped the paper again, rereading it.  
  
“Consort...”  
  
He looked up when he heard a noise from the upstairs rooms. Albel's own entry had been silent, save for his pacing. He knew, however, that any sound he might have made would not have carried to the upper floors. Stealthily, he went up the stairs to investigate.  
  
A light spilled from under the door of his master bedroom, drawing a frown. He wouldn't have seen it from the outside where he'd been, Albel realized, because it was at the back of the estate house. Something crashed to the floor in his bedchamber, shattering, and he heard the voice of his servant.  
  
That only fueled his rage again and he kicked the door open, catching the man in the middle of his attempt to rob Albel's possessions.  
  
“I should have known,” he sneered at the man, striding across the room. Once Albel was in reach, he caught his traitorous servant by the throat with his artificial hand and hefted him from the floor. “You betrayed me,” he ground out between his teeth.  
  
The man struggled, trying to get air to flow past the grip, but found that impossible. His face began to turn an angry shade of purple. Still, he moved his lips in the attempt to speak.  
  
“There were only two people who knew about Fayt being my consort and I know the other would not have spoke of it to anyone else. Had you known better, you would have realized that it was all a ruse.” Albel studied the suffocating man's face and the fear in his eyes. “I never made any official decrees, but still you squealed to the traitors. Was it for money? Did I not pay you enough, you pathetic little worm?”  
  
He released his grip and let the man drop to the floor. “I'm not going to kill you... yet,” Albel told his thieving servant. “But, should I find Fayt in any condition other than what I left him in...”  
  
“I had no choice,” the man coughed out, looking up at his employer from his kneeling position. “They would have killed me!”  
  
“How ironic,” Albel said, not a single shred of sympathy in his voice. “Because if anything _has_ happened to Fayt, I'm going to do the same.” He knelt down on one knee by the man, his very presence imposing and threatening. “If you try to run, I'll find you. No matter where you go. I'll hunt you down like the maggot you are and I'll crush you without a second thought.”  
  
As the servant crawled away from him, Albel let his brain work on the situation. There was no designated time specified in the note and no one other than his own soldiers and his traitorous manservant knew of his return. He could, conceivably, get a bit of aid before he went to the meeting place.  
  
There was only one person he could trust in this. Someone who held his lover as a close and personal friend. While Albel and she didn't share that kind of bond, they did respect each other as equals. He rose, working this new plan in his head, only barely aware of the betraying worm exiting his chamber.  
  
Aquios wasn't all _that_ far away.  
  
* * *  
Albel knew that his appearance would surprise the Aquarian woman. Nel had no reason to expect a visit from him at any time. Though, he deemed the circumstances to be enough to enlist her aid. The commander was not a covert man nor was he well versed in the art of stealth.  
  
He was a man who preferred to confront his enemies head on.  
  
When he was led into the small sitting room, he courteously afforded her a polite nod of his head. He was about to ask her for help. Even with his stubborn pride, he wasn't about to anger her before his mouth ever opened. She indicated he should take a seat across from her, but declined with an abrupt shake of his head.  
  
"What brings you all this way, Albel?" Nel Zelphyr was still somewhat pale and obviously weakened from the illness she'd been suffering. She was in no condition to give him the assistance he needed from her.  
  
"It's... about Fayt." Albel wasn't sure how to broach the situation. His hesitation as he considered his options was short-lived. He would be honest with Nel. He tossed the rumpled letter down on the table between them, his voice little better than a growl. "Some idiotic rebels are trying to rekindle the war between our kingdoms. In their stupidity, they thought that Fayt would make a good bargaining chip in their favor. I suspect that they're going to try to force my hand and make me help them."  
  
Nel rose slowly from her seat. "They kidnapped Fayt?"  
  
"Yes. I'm to meet them at the Kirlsa Training Facility if he's to be freed again." Albel averted his gaze, feeling again inadequate. "It was because of me that he's in this position. I had planned to confront the worms head on-"  
  
"And hoped that I would be able to extract him while they were busy with you," Nel finished for him, nodding her head in response. "A sound plan," she praised, "and no one would expect such a thing from you considering your preference for personal confrontation." Her hand rose to her chin as she gave the idea some thought.  
  
"As you can see, Albel, I'm in no shape to go... but..."  
  
Albel deflated a bit, even despite knowing the truth himself. His scarlet gaze returned to the woman. "But?"  
  
"Tynave and Farleen would have no reservations or objections to helping rescue Fayt. He did the same for them, after all," Nel said after a bit of thinking. "I'll pass on their new orders immediately. Go ahead and get yourself prepared for the journey."  
  
"It's probably best for them to travel separately from me. A trio will draw more attention than one person," the swordsman cautioned the Crimson Blade leader.  
  
Nel only smiled at him. "I never said they would accompany you. Travel at your normal pace, as you would any other time. My subordinates will infiltrate the facility as soon as they arrive."  
  
* * *  
It was barely four days after he left Peterny when Albel stood outside his old training facility. The Black Brigade had been moved since the peace talks began, but the building itself was still in good repair. He dismounted from his lum, patting the beast's neck, and then walked for the main doors.  
  
There was no surprise when the wide portal parted at his approach and he never slowed his determined pace. He remembered the two women who had, hopefully, already infiltrated the complex. The swordsman had to take some faith in the idea that they'd become better at fighting than they were when he'd confronted and defeated them.  
  
If he didn't, it was over before it began.  
  
Somehow, Albel was not surprised to see his old subordinate, Shelby the Heavy Handed, leading the group of rebels. He gave a derisive snort when he saw the other man. It explained a great many things.  
  
“Long time no see, Albel,” the imposing figure said. Shelby was flanked by several of his guard. The merest of glances said that there were individuals from almost every branch of Airyglyph's military in attendance.  
  
Albel put the flesh hand on his hip, lifting his clawed hand and closing it into a fist. “Don't talk down to me like we're equals, maggot,” he said curtly. “Where's the boy?”  
  
“Your little consort is safe,” Shelby told him. “For the moment, at least. If you become uncooperative, that will change.”  
  
“Idiot,” the Black Brigade commander said and rolled his eyes. “Did you really think I'd come here to negotiate the return of some stupid boy who happens to prefer sleeping in my bed?” He gave the rebels a pitying look. “If so, then you've really overestimated his worth to me.”  
  
Shelby sat forward on his throne, glaring at the swordsman. “Then why are you here, Albel?”  
  
“Because, you eye-sore maggot,” the slim commander said in an increasingly condescending tone, “he just so happens to be important to the king. I can't believe your stupidity, Shelby.” Albel straightened, locking his deadly crimson glare on the former soldier. “Now, if you don't let me see him, I'm going to start killing your dolls.”  
  
The rebel leader snapped his fingers and two soldiers came out with an unconscious blue-haired form between them. Albel studied the teen, noting at first that he was breathing as he swept his gaze along the slender body. His irritation became a murderous rage when he saw bandages around both of the younger man's ankles.  
  
“What did you do to him?” he asked, barely able to keep his voice even. He had his suspicions.  
  
Shelby seemed unconcerned as he waved the question off. “He tried to escape,” he told Albel non-chalantly. “So, we had to hobble him. We made sure not to keep him from being useful for you.”  
  
It wasn't an uncommon thing, really. Hell, Albel had even given such orders himself when prisoners of war proved to be more than a little difficult. But, to have it done to Fayt... worse still, _both_ ankles... Albel knew that it was excruciatingly painful. He'd heard the screams of the ones who'd been given the same treatment. Now, his unconscious state and the carrying made more sense.  
  
When the soldiers moved the teen out of sight again, Albel had to trust in both himself and the women who had come to rescue the boy. He knew, in all likelihood, that Shelby had no intention of letting Fayt go. So long as he'd thought the young man was useful in securing Albel's assistance, he'd keep him under lock and key.  
  
These thoughts angered him and he drew his sword. “It's time to teach you traitorous worms a lesson,” he snarled out.  
  
A few of the soldiers around him moved in to disarm Albel, but he didn't give them that luxury. His single-edged blade swept in a trailing arc around him, an explosive force blasting them all back. “You'll be the first example, Shelby. If you surrender peacefully, I may even let you beg for your worthless life.”  
  
“Kill the engineer,” Shelby shouted as he reached for his mace. Albel didn't let him hoist it before knocking the man over in the extra-large chair with a single Air Slash attack.  
  
The swordsman rushed forward, the tip of his blade leading, and sank it into his former subordinate's chest between the armored plates. Blood oozed out from the links of armor, dribbling down the man's torso. Albel looked at him dispassionately. There was no mercy in the crimson gaze, only a rage that Shelby had never been exposed to before.  
  
“You're dead,” was all Albel said before ripping the weapon back out and turning to deal with the rest of the soldiers in the room. Not a single one of them thought to beg for leniency. Albel appreciated that.  
  
It saved time.  
  
He worked methodically through the lower hallways, slaughtering the traitors as he found them. Eventually, he came across Tynave and Farleen. They were rushing to get Fayt out of the complex. He slowed down as he approached the two Aquarian women.  
  
“How is he?” Albel asked them, his crimson gaze locked on the motionless form between them.  
  
“Still unconscious,” Tynave answered him. “We were going to give him a potion to keep him asleep, but he hasn't woken up yet so we didn't think it'd be a good idea.”  
  
Farleen looked at the commander of the Black Brigade. “I think they might have drugged him when they cut his tendons.”  
  
Albel nodded at her and then reached for the young man. “Here, I'll take him. You two get the hell out... and tell your leader I appreciate her help.”  
  
“He'll slow you down,” Tynave said as Albel lifted the teen in both arms. “We'll make sure you have a clear path to the exit.”  
  
That surprised the swordsman and he blinked at both women. “Thank you,” he told them in an uncharacteristic display of gratitude.  
  
“Our healers can fix his ankles,” Tynave said before moving ahead of him. “After we leave here, we should get to Aquios quickly. We've got lums waiting for us outside.”  
  
Albel appreciated their foresight in the matter and quickly hastened after the women. They had, indeed, bettered their fighting skills, he noticed as they rushed along. The three of them broke for the double doors that had been the way Albel went in. He could hear shouting above and called towards the other two. “Hurry and get the lums!” He knew what was, likely, waiting above their heads and would not allow every witness to what had happened inside to die. More important than anything was that someone who knew what was going on got away.  
  
"Archers! Fire!"  
  
Snarling, Albel turned around with the unconscious Fayt in his arms. He would face this death defiantly even if he couldn't draw his sword. It was fortunate that the Aquarian women were far enough away that they wouldn't be struck by the rain of arrows speeding towards the two men.  
  
However, before those feathered spines of death found their mark, there was an earth-shaking impact that threw Albel from his feet. When he looked up, through the floating dust, a massive dragon stood between he, Fayt, and the archers. The gargantuan reptile bore the same coloring as Lyvithia, but she wasn't nearly the same immense size.  
  
"Strap the boy to my back," the she-dragon said, her serpentine neck craning around to look down at the commander.  
  
Albel did as commanded, looping Fayt into the rider's harness that wound around the muscular body. "Aquios has the best healers," he shouted to her after Fayt was secure and he was doing the same for himself.  
  
"As you wish," came the reply before the female drake leapt into the air and snapped out her wings to catch wind, lifting them all aloft.  
  
Looking back down, the swordsman's eyes glittered in rage at the rebel soldiers below. His head turned to face the she-dragon. "The wounds are staunched… Fayt will live… but I want those moronic bastards otherwise."  
  
The female dragon almost seemed to smile. "Oh, I readily concur." Her wings banked, bringing them back around, and Albel felt her great lungs take in oxygen. Part of his mind twinged at what he knew was coming, but his resolution deemed that he would watch the demise of those who had called him out.  
  
She strafed, the gout of flame bellowing out burning away armor and flesh of the warriors scattering below to find shelter. That done, she turned again towards the sky and beat her massive wings to gain altitude. "Forgive my late arrival, Lord Nox, but I got here as quickly as I could."  
  
"Did Lyvithia send you?" Albel asked, nearly shouting to be heard as the wind stole his words.  
  
"No. Lady Vell's scouts discovered suspicious activity and I was the one who arrived first." The female drake pumped her wings for more speed. “When I saw you, your safety became priority. As the eldest, I must preserve my matron's honor.”  
  
"You're Anvari?"  
  
"I am."  
  
Albel sat back in the harness, too stunned to reply. He knew who she was because he'd have been her rider had he actually become one of the members of the Dragon Brigade. How ironic that she serve him now, so many years after his prideful failure in the Ascension of Flame.  
  
"I owe you for this, Anvari," Albel said, looking down at Fayt's pale, drawn face.  
  
The great drake's head wound around, her gaze locking on the commander. "You owe me nothing, Lord Nox. While my father thinks little of the pact, I hold my matron's honor in the highest esteem. Because of that, you and your consort will live to die another time."  
  
Frowning at the last of her words, Albel was about to retort. "He's not my-"  
  
"Save your breath and lies," she said sternly, still watching the swordsman. "He carries your scent too strongly, Albel. If you wish to deny my words, then do so… but not when I can smell the truth at more than a thousand yards downwind."  
  
Albel clamped his mouth shut at the chastising, looking off in the distance when something caught his attention. He nodded towards the leader of the Dragon Brigade as she flew past them and saluted the man. Later, he told himself. He would meet her again later and thank the woman for her miraculous timing.

* * *

Continued in Part VIII


	8. Chapter 8

* * *  
Arriving at Aquios castle in the sacred city, Anvari landed in the courtyard. Guards rushed out to greet the dragon and her passengers, causing Albel to look at them and shout, “I need a healer!” Carefully, he loosened the straps holding the young man to the dragon and eased him down into waiting hands.  
  
White garbed women bearing runological symbols met them with a stretcher and Fayt was placed on it. Albel was only a few steps behind the procession that hurried the teen into the castle and towards the healing ward. He would have gone into the treatment room as well, but he was stopped by one of the assistants.  
  
“What?” he snapped at the young man.  
  
“Forgive me, sir,” the man said to him, “but we can not allow you inside. If you could please take a seat. Your companion is in the best of care.”  
  
Albel wanted to shove him out of his way and even looked about to do so. However, his concern for Fayt managed to stay his hand. With a growl, he turned and flung himself into one of the comfortable chairs nearby. In truth, he was weary. He'd spent several days doing naught but running himself ragged in his desperation to save the youth.  
  
As he settled more into the seat, he found his eyes fluttering closed despite his attempts to keep awake. When the silence of the room held, there was nothing he could focus on. It wasn't long at all when his eyelids fell and remained that way.  
  
"We've sutured his ankles and applied generous healing spells to them," came the voice of the attending healer. It managed to cut through the sleepy haze that had overtaken Albel. He lifted his head, bleary crimson eyes moving to the woman's kind face.  
  
"And?"  
  
She smiled. "He'll need to allow them time to rest, but things seem to be furthering along well. If he follows our orders to the letter, then he should have no trouble at all."  
  
Albel unfolded his lean frame from the chair and rose quickly. "You're certain of this? The damage can be undone completely?"  
  
"He'll have the scars from the ordeal," the healer said, her hand moving to rest on his upper arm. "But, his ability to walk won't be impaired. Within a few months, he should be able to continue as he's always been."  
  
The commander looked at the door that separated him from the younger man, uncertain. Part of him wanted to see this for himself, to see Fayt healthy and with color again. He'd been so pale when they'd finally landed, that the swordsman had feared the worst. "When… when can I see him?"  
  
"You can see him now if you wish," the older woman said gently. "However, he's still sedated from the herbal relaxant I gave him before treatment. His consciousness is balanced between cognizant and dreaming. I'll warn you, it's possible he won't remember anything you tell him."  
  
With a nod, Albel pulled himself from her and walked to the door. He opened it quietly, peering into the room first, before stepping inside. Fayt lay on the large bed against one wall, not nearly so blanched as when he'd arrived. There was some hesitation before the commander moved closer until he finally stood at the side of the bed.  
  
"I almost thought I'd lost you," Albel murmured to the slumbering form, his eyes heavy with shadows of the past. "Damn you for your kindness... damn you for your generosity... and damn you to Hell for making me want to keep you around me no matter what..."  
  
He swallowed the lump in his throat, eyes still locked on Fayt's slack face. "I want to hate you for this... but I _can't_."  
  
"Even if you could, Albel," Nel's voice murmured from the door, "it wouldn't change anything."  
  
The swordsman whirled around, crimson gaze widening at the realization that he'd been caught unawares. Worse still, Nel Zelphyr had overheard him and his confession. He said nothing as she fully stepped into the room and took position next to him.  
  
“Your feelings only mirror his,” the woman told him in a gentle voice. “He's wanted to mean more to you than just someone you'd shared the bed with.”  
  
Albel snorted at that and looked anywhere but her or the silent form on the bed. “It was his connection to me that put him in this situation,” he said in a displeased tone.  
  
“Had it not been you, it would have been someone else. You just happened to be convenient.” Nel looked up at Albel and, carefully, reached her hand to touch his arm. “Albel, he loves you. I know that word is the last thing that you ever want to hear, but it's the truth.”  
  
“I never asked him to,” the swordsman told her.  
  
She shook her head. “Love doesn't work that way. These feelings he has for you... I don't think they're a recent development. I believe they may have grown from the seeds of friendship that started a year ago.”  
  
“That's absurd.”  
  
“Emotions are hardly rational.” Nel turned towards him and pulled him so that he was looking more or less at her. “Albel, ask yourself these questions. Do you want to see him happy? Would you do anything to protect him? Were you afraid when you found him gone? Were you angry when you saw what they did to him?”  
  
He said nothing as she walked towards the door to leave. “You're the only one who can answer those questions, Albel. Had he been in the same position as you, he would have done the same thing you did... though maybe not quite as extreme.” There was nothing more said as the woman left him alone with his thoughts and his unconscious lover.  
  
* * *  
Fayt woke him later that day. The swordsman had fallen asleep next to the teen's bed in a chair that had been brought to him by one of the healer's assistants. It was the initial movements that had brought Albel up first. The young man's soft sound of pain was what had him fully awake after.  
  
“How do you feel?” Albel asked as he shifted closer to the bed.  
  
The youth looked at him, his eyes unfocused. “Mmm... better than I did before, but that isn't saying a whole lot.” When it seemed pointless to try to look around, Fayt lay his head back against the pillow. “How long have I been out?” he asked, bringing a hand to his face.  
  
“I'm not sure how long before,” Albel answered honestly, “but since we arrived in Aquios, probably about a half-day.”  
  
“I'm afraid to ask this,” the youth said, shifting to look at the older man again, “but what did the healers say about... my tendons?”  
  
Albel lifted his hand, placing his palm against the blue-haired youth's cheek. The gesture was extremely rare for him, more so than his other acts of affection. Gently, his callused thumb rasped against Fayt's cheek under one green eye. “So long as you do what she tells you, you'll be fine,” he answered in a low voice. “You'll have a couple of scars; but in a few months, you'll be as annoying as usual.”  
  
The last of the sentence brought a chuckle from Fayt and he leaned into Albel's hand, his eyes falling closed. “I was afraid I wouldn't see you again,” the youth murmured.  
  
“I had every reason to come take you back.”  
  
Fayt opened his eyes again, looking at him. “I tried to tell them I wasn't your con-”  
  
“I know,” Albel reassured the youth, interrupting his attempt at placating the man. “It's not something you should be worried about. You'll only prolong your recovery if you do.” He shook his head when the teen tried to say more.  
  
“They wouldn't have believed you, anyway, Fayt. They'd already gotten what they thought was the truth from my servant.”  
  
Fayt lifted his hand, the limb trembling, and covered the one against his cheek. “I kinda liked that guy. What a jerk.”  
  
“That worm won't be a concern anymore once I get back to Kirlsa,” Albel told the younger man. “Not only was he a traitor, but a thief as well. He'll be punished for his part in this.”  
  
“I guess he has it coming,” Fayt said softly, the words punctuated with a huge yawn.  
  
Albel studied his lover intently at that. “I think the sedative is trying to pull you under again. Don't fight it. You'll heal faster while you're sleeping.”  
  
“You won't leave me here alone, will you?”  
  
“Don't get clingy,” the swordsman chastised Fayt, though his tone was far from normal compared to when he usually did so. “I've a few things I need to take care of before we return to Airyglyph.”  
  
The younger man didn't let go of his hand just yet. “Promise?”  
  
Albel sighed a little at that. “My word. Now, sleep or I'll knock you out myself.” When he was sure that he would be obeyed, the commander rose from his chair and slipped out of the room quietly.  
  
His eyes cast about, until they fell on one of the healers he recognized and he caught her arm as she walked past him. “My... consort is sleeping again. I need to know how long it will be before he can be moved back to Airyglyph.”  
  
The woman looked up at Albel and nodded. “I'll talk to his physician and see what she recommends.”  
  
“Thank you,” Albel said before walking down the hall. He knew little about Aquios, truthfully. But, there were two things he did know for certain. The first was that Fayt would get excellent care just because of who he was and what he meant to these people.  
  
The second was that if they believed he was Airyglyph nobility, too, that care would be upgraded to the best.  
  
* * *  
That first month of recovery was spent in Aquios. Fayt, thanks to the help of the healer's herbal draught, spent most of it sleeping. It was partly Albel's request. He knew that, if given a chance to remain awake, the young man would be pushing himself before he should.  
  
When he was finally able to get the youth to Kirlsa, Albel assisted him in getting into the estate. It had, by this point, been repaired so no evidence of the kidnapping was visible to remind either man of what had happened. A new servant was also there waiting to attend them.  
  
Albel, unwilling to take chances with Fayt's recovery, carried the young man up to the bedroom as soon as they arrived. He put him on the bed, being as careful as possible. “Stay put. I'm going to see about getting something for you to eat.”  
  
“Albel, wait,” the youth said, catching his wrist before he got too far.  
  
The swordsman looked down at the grip, then over at his lover with a raised eyebrow. “What?” he asked.  
  
Fayt gave a tug to his wrist, trying to draw him closer. “This is the first time since you went to Peterny that we've had a chance to be alone...”  
  
The young man was right, of course. In Aquios, healers had been running in and out of the room at most hours to ensure that Fayt would recover. Worse still, the few times they could have been alone, the young man was under the effects of the sedatives. True, it was at Albel's behest, however, it still made things one-sided at the time.  
  
Albel moved closer to the bedside, looking down at the blue-haired man with unreadable eyes. “You should be resting,” he said, but the argument was a weak one.  
  
“I've had a month to rest. I won't do anything to mess up my recovery,” he promised the older man. His green eyes regarded Albel uncertainly. “I just... wanted to spend some time with you.”  
  
The swordsman settled on the edge of the bed, careful not to shift Fayt. “Idiot,” he said without heat or venom.  
  
When Fayt realized that he wasn't leaving, he let his hand fall back to the bed and looked up at Albel's eyes. “What happened hasn't changed the fact that I want to stay here with you,” he told him.  
  
Albel blinked at that, surprised. He was fairly certain that being put in such a dangerous, and painful, situation would have the younger man ready to pack up and leave Elicoor behind. “You were at risk because of me,” he said in a low voice. “Because they thought you could be used to seal my cooperation... that doesn't bother you at all?”  
  
“I think it would have bothered me more if you did cooperate with them,” Fayt told him. “This is where I want to be, Albel.”  
  
“Even if I don't feel the same about you as you do me?” He had to know. There was too much that Albel didn't understand. What was Fayt willing to do, or give up, to remain with him?  
  
“If I get stupid and start thinking about the future, I might waver,” Fayt answered. “But, it's now that's important. You came for me. You even enlisted help to make sure that I'd get out. It says more about what you feel than you can with words. Just because you can't say it doesn't mean you don't feel something.”  
  
He was right, again. Albel leaned over the youth, looking down at Fayt's face. “I'm possessive, jealous, rebellious, and arrogant... How can you care so much for such a person?” he finally asked the younger man.  
  
“Because, those very traits also make you honest. Maybe not your words, but in your actions. You helped me, Albel... when we were friends, and again now, when there's more.” Fayt smiled up at him. “I know you better than anyone else.”  
  
“You say, then, that I've proven with my actions that I do care for you in the same way?”  
  
“Yes,” Fayt answered him with a nod. There was no hesitation when he spoke. No wavering in the voice or tone. He believed this, with no doubts. Albel saw that in his expression as well.  
  
He closed his eyes. It was the answer that, in a sense, sealed everything. No one had ever believed in him so completely. Not since his father.  
  
How could he not offer something back? Fayt was so generous, especially towards Albel. In truth, there wasn't much that the commander of the Black Brigade could give the youth.  
  
But, there was one offering he could make. Something that would be of proportional importance. Something that Fayt would understand.  
  
His silence stretched as he weighed this. If he wanted to be honest, no one else would mean as much to him as Fayt did. No one else could understand him nearly so well. Did he have the courage to follow through? Would he?  
  
“Bind yourself to me, Fayt,” Albel said, his eyes still closed as he spoke. “Become my official consort.”  
  
Hands rose to each side of his face, the skin warm as the palms caressed his cheeks. “Are you sure, Albel?” he heard the younger man ask.  
  
He nodded. “It's the only thing I can offer. You don't need material things nor do you want them.”  
  
“Which means you know me better than anyone else,” Fayt told him. Lips brushed against Albel's forehead, the brief touch pleasant. “I accept.”  
  
The crimson eyes snapped open at that and the swordsman looked down at Fayt. There was only a full acceptance of what he was offering there, reflected fully in the green eyes. Albel could say nothing more, his surprise stealing his words. Instead, he gathered the younger man against him and held on.  
  
Albel wasn't going to let go – ever.

* * *

Continued in Epilogue


	9. Epilogue

* * *  
The official ceremony that legally bound Fayt Leingod as Albel's consort was not made public. The witnesses were few, but in some way close to both of the men. Woltar was there, of course, as he had raised the young lord Nox after the death of Glou Nox. Carianna Vell was there, at Albel's request, for her part in making sure that they had lived for this moment.   
  
Nel Zelphyr was also there, as per Fayt's desire.   
  
Albel was dressed finely, something uncommon for him, but he didn't chafe or behave as he normally would have done. This was, perhaps, testament to his nervousness about the situation. Part of him was concerned that the younger man might change his mind at the last minute. He had no idea what his reaction would be if that happened.   
  
But, such a fear was proven to be without foundation. When they stood before King Arzei, facing each other, Albel could see that the blue-haired man was resolute in his choice. The commander of the Black Brigade chided himself silently for his wavering faith in his lover.   
  
He barely heard the king's words, giving his answers when needed. The entire time, Albel couldn't pull his eyes from Fayt's. Similarly, the green gaze was locked to his. The look in those eyes consumed his world during that ceremony.   
  
There were no cheers when the ceremony was concluded, nor was there a banquet in their honor. Albel did not want or need these things. He suffered through their words of congratulations, showing a surprising amount of patience.   
  
He wanted to go.   
  
As if recognizing this, Fayt diplomatically secured their release from any more formalities. Albel was thankful towards his consort when he was pulled along in the younger man's wake as they were finally able to exit the palace. He was still caught up in his daze of the drastic change his life was taking as they made their return to Kirlsa and his estate.   
  
The swordsman stopped short as they approached the front of his manor, his crimson eyes narrowing. The fear he'd first had when he saw Fayt at the mid-winter celebration was finally realized. A growl rose in his throat.   
  
Cliff Fittir sat, like an uncultured brute, on the stairs leading into his family home.   
  
The Klausian rose when he took notice of them, his blue gaze giving the newly ordained consort a once-over. “Nice look,” he said in a casual voice.   
  
“Cliff!” the younger man exclaimed as he took a few steps away from Albel.   
  
“You know,” the Klausian said with chuckle, “I expected you to be on Elicoor II, but I didn't expect to find you here.”   
  
“Maybe because he didn't _want_ to be found,” Albel snapped at the blond. His selfish possessiveness was showing in the way he addressed Cliff. He only strengthened that by approaching from behind Fayt and winding his slim arm around the younger man's waist.   
  
Blinking, the Klausian looked between the two men, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. When he turned back to Fayt, his eyes didn't hide his confusion. “Albel?!”   
  
The younger man reached behind himself with both arms, lacing his fingers at the small of the swordsman's back. “It's a... complicated story,” he told his friend and former bodyguard.   
  
“I'm not sure I wanna know,” Cliff replied, still switching his gaze back and forth between the two of them.   
  
Albel grew impatient at the small talk between them. “Why are you here?” he asked in a frosted tone of voice.   
  
“Well,” Cliff began, one hand moving to the back of his head and rubbing his neck. “The New Federation Government asked me to find Fayt and see if he'd made his decision yet.”   
  
A thin spike of ice cold fear struck into Albel's heart at the words. It spread throughout his body, freezing him in place. He didn't move a single muscle nor did his unhappy expression change. Truthfully, there was only one person who could give answer to that question.   
  
He didn't know what he'd do if Fayt choose to leave him now after he'd finally given in.   
  
“It's not just my decision anymore, Cliff,” came the younger man's answer. “Give me a little more time to talk about this with Albel. Okay?”   
  
The look on the blond Klausian's face said that he didn't expect a favorable answer, but Cliff gave a slow nod. “All right,” he said finally. “I'll get a room at the inn.   
  
Albel frowned at that but said nothing as he managed to get himself unfrozen enough to start urging Fayt towards the large home they'd be sharing. He heard the young man sigh once the doors were closed and they were alone again. The sound pulled his gaze towards his consort.   
  
“Damn his rotten timing,” the swordsman said with a frustrated snarl.   
  
Fayt's hand moved to his shoulder and the youth shook his head. “I'm not leaving you behind,” he told Albel firmly.   
  
“They'll hound you until you give in,” Albel spat out in disgust.   
  
“Let them,” Fayt murmured gently.   
  
At the words, Albel looked more closely at his lover and lifted his warm hand to the side of the younger man's face. “Part of you wants to go, Fayt.”   
  
“Yeah,” came the unwelcome agreement, “but you're more important to me. I'm not leaving here unless you come, too.”   
  
Albel snorted and rolled his eyes. “I hate my own country's diplomatic functions,” he said with another show of disgust, “I can't imagine these Federation fools would have anything better to offer.”   
  
“True enough... but, there is something I have here that they can't offer me in any way, shape, or form,” Fayt told him with a hint of a smile.   
  
“What's that?”   
  
“The best bodyguard around,” the youth answered.   
  
“You can't be serious, Fayt. I know nothing of those other strange beings,” Albel told him flatly. “I can't see how that would do you much good.”   
  
“Actually, that's better than someone like Cliff,” said the teen. “Because that means you won't have any previous bias for or against them.”   
  
Albel snorted at that. “I don't trust anyone except you,” he told the younger man pointedly.   
  
“Which means you'd be the perfect bodyguard if I did accept their offer.” Fayt teased him just a little. “You have to admit, it'd be better than sitting around here and listening to the old men talking about how the peace talks are going.”   
  
“You're serious?”   
  
“I stay with you,” Fayt said to him in response to his surprised question. “If you don't want me to be part of the Federation, they'll just have to deal with it.”   
  
Albel let his warm fingers lift the teen's chin to bring their eyes into contact. “You're meant for greater things than watching me pull out my hair in boredom,” he said at last.   
  
“Then come with me. There are places I want to show you outside this world... places I want to share with you,” Fayt implored softly.   
  
“Boring places with equally boring people,” Albel snorted, his eyes watching the teen's reaction to his words.   
  
“Beautiful places,” Fayt told him before pressing a kiss against Albel's throat. “The kinds that you'd never be able to see otherwise.”   
  
“Working on your persuasion skills already?” Albel asked with a purr as the teen bestowed another kiss under his ear.   
  
Fayt smiled mischievously at the sound. “How am I doing so far?”   
  
“If you can convince me by sunrise,” Albel told his lover, “Veran's going to be promoted by mid-day.”   
  
There was a chuckle from the teen. “Then I guess we know what I'm going to be doing tonight.”

* * *

The End...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is ten years old, but it still holds a fond place in my heart. It took a year for it all to come together coherently as my muses decided to go fishing somewhere in the middle of writing it. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> Thank you.


End file.
